Green and Silver
by Swallow B
Summary: My version of Slytherin Harry.
1. Chapter 1

Green and Silver

A new adventure to celebrate two years of ffnet.

Anything you recognise belongs to JK Rowling. This is JKR's world with one (major) difference.

Year One

1.

The Sorting Hat

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward, aware of the whispers hissing around him.

The next moment, the Sorting Hat was blocking out all view of his surroundings.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh, my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?... You could be great, you know, it's all in your head and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness..."

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the Hat.

Harry slowly pulled it off. Stunned faces met his gaze. The Hall was completely silent. He couldn't bear to look at his new friend Ron.

He took another look at the Slytherin table. Perhaps they weren't that bad, though that boy, Malfoy...

He turned to Professor McGonagall. To his surprise, she looked devastated.

"Can't I...? Is it...? Can I try again?"

"No, Potter." Professor McGonagall seemed to have difficulty speaking. "You must go to the Slytherin table."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then you can go home."

Hanging his head, Harry trailed over to the Slytherin table. Eager not to sit close to Malfoy, he chose a seat on the other side of a boy called Theodore Nott, another first year who didn't seem to want to join Malfoy.

Perhaps it wasn't so bad, he tried to tell himself again. It was definitely better than going back to the Dursleys. At least he wouldn't be with that Hermione Granger.

But a lump was growing in his throat. It threatened to burst when Ron joined the Gryffindor table. Harry couldn't bear to look up any more, not even when a boy called Blaise Zabini came to sit next to him.

"So you're Harry Potter?" he said, looking at him curiously.

Harry just nodded. On his right, Theodore Nott was staring at him too.

"See, Potter?" called Malfoy's voice across the table. "You can't hang out with scum!"

"I'll hang out with who I want and it won't be you!" Harry lashed out, surprising even himself.

"Quiet!"

Harry turned towards the staff table. A teacher with greasy black hair and a hooked nose was glaring at him.

But before Harry had time to feel worse, Dumbledore had stood up and was opening his arms wide.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down, among clapping and cheering. Zabini snorted. Nott seemed bewildered. Malfoy looked at the Headmaster very disrespectfully.

Suddenly the dishes on the table were full of food. Harry reached hungrily for everything in sight, but he found, after the first few bites, that the food weighed heavily on his stomach.

Again he looked around him. A horrible ghost in robes stained with blood was hovering next to Malfoy. Malfoy's unhappy face cheered Harry up a little - as long as the ghost didn't get too close to him.

"Is that the Bloody Baron?" asked Zabini with interest.

I'm so ignorant, thought Harry. I know nothing about nothing.

At the Gryffindor table, another ghost was swinging his head off his neck. It seemed the Gryffindors weren't better off.

"Professor Snape's looking at you, Potter," called Malfoy. "You didn't even salute him. He's our Head of house, you'd better show him respect."

Harry turned to the staff table, wondering which one was Professor Snape. His question was quickly answered. The hook-nosed teacher was looking straight at him - though not unkindly. Harry felt himself blush. He wondered what Malfoy had meant by "saluting" him.

The teacher looked straight into Harry's eyes and a sharp, hot pain shot across Harry's scar.

"Ouch!"

The others stared at him.

"What?" said Malfoy.

"Nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come.

Harry looked at Snape again, but Snape didn't look back. He was busy talking to Professor Quirrell.

The puddings disappeared and Dumbledore got up again to give a few notices.

"Finally I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not want to die a very painful death."

Nott frowned. Malfoy sneered.

"Before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favourite tune."

Complete cacophony followed, as everyone was trying to sing louder than everyone else, until all tunes came to an end, leaving only the Weasley twins who, for some reason, were singing a funeral march that matched Harry's mood.

"Bedtime. Off you trot!"

The prefects, who introduced themselves as Adrian Pucey and Heather Harper, led the first years out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeons. The corridors were a dark maze, cold, dark and gloomy. Harry doubted he would ever learn to find his way in there. What if he got stuck in the dungeons for ever?

They stopped in front of a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

"Great snakes," said Pucey.

"That's the password," he added. "Don't forget it."

A stone door appeared and slid open. Pucey marched through. The first years followed.

The Slytherin common room was long, with rough stone walls and a low ceiling. At the further end of the room, a beautiful fireplace cast some light and warmth on what Harry thought was otherwise a creepy place. He wondered what the Gryffindor common room looked like.

"Girls down there, boys down here," continued Pucey, indicating stone doors on either side of the room.

Behind the door leading to the boys' dormitories, more stone steps led even deeper under the school. Harry found himself in a room he had to share with Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy. Quite a change from his lonely cupboard. He sat on the bed next to his trunk and let out a sigh.

"Homesick, Potter? Miss the Muggles?" said Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"No," said Harry.

One thing he did not feel was homesick.

He pulled his pyjamas out of his trunk and fell into bed. It was nice and cosy. Suddenly Harry felt better. He fell asleep almost immediately.

He dreamed he was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban and Professor Snape was telling him to take it off at once. He tried to pull it off, but it got tighter and Malfoy laughed at him and Ron laughed at him and told him it served him right for being in Slytherin. Then Professor Snape walked over and pulled the turban off as easily as Harry had taken off Uncle Vernon's overlarge socks.

.

Harry opened his eyes and nearly screamed. Snape was there, bent over his bed.

"Quiet, don't wake the others. How you got yourself all entangled in the curtain, I have no idea. You are lucky I... um, have a habit of checking on the first years on the first night. Go back to sleep."

Snape straightened up and walked out, his black robe sweeping around him.

Harry lay back in bed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad... if only Ron was in the bed opposite his, instead of Malfoy.

ooo

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was pacing in his study. Strictly speaking, this was not an unusual occurrence. Albus Dumbledore liked to pace, as others like to doodle. The rythmic moving of his feet helped him to think. Albus Dumbledore thought a lot.

There was a lot to think on this night of the first of September 1991. His carefully prepared plans had hit an unexpected snag.

"Remind me why you placed the boy in Slytherin," he ordered the Sorting Hat.

The Hat was delighted. It wasn't used to getting attention between Sortings, from one year to the next. What a good idea it had been to put Harry Potter in Slytherin. Even Sirius Black's sorting in Gryffindor had not got the Hat so much attention.

"The boy is prime Slytherin material, Headmaster. An abused, angry Half-blood with a thirst to prove himself. The typical Slytherin background. More ambition than Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode put together and I notice you haven't questioned their Sorting. Harry Potter intends to save the wizarding world."

"Why would he? He knows nothing of the prophecy."

"That's how prophecies work, Headmaster. They are unwittingly fulfilled by unaware subjects. You might like to discuss this with Sybill Trelawney."

Dumbledore clucked impatiently. He disliked witty remarks when he was not the one making them.

"I sense the power of Slytherin in this boy," the Hat was saying. "And tremendous anger. Not unlike one Tom Riddle I made a Slytherin years ago. These two boys have a strong connection, similar powers..."

Dumbledore stared. Ollivander had, indeed, owled him a month ago to tell him Harry had bought the second wand containing a feather from Fawkes's tail. Could this mean the rumours were true? Could Harry, son of James Potter, be a budding Dark wizard?

"They even look alike," added the Hat, proud of having silenced Dumbledore.

"He looks like his father, James Potter, whom you Sorted in Gryffindor!"

"Ah, James Potter was the perfect Gryffindor. His son is different, much more sensitive. He reminds me also of Severus Snape."

"Snape, yes. I need to speak to Snape."

Dumbledore turned around and began to pace in the other direction, thus signifying to the Hat that it was free to go and compose next year's song. Before he summoned Snape, he needed to reconsider his plans. The first step had been to send Hagrid to advertise Gryffindor. That hadn't worked. Some adjustments needed to be made before he undertook his second step.

Or maybe not. Hagrid was bound to invite Harry over, even though he was in Slytherin. Dumbledore just needed to have a friendly talk with Hagrid to find out when the visit would take place. Probably on Friday afternoon, just after Harry's first Potions class. Perfect timing. Dumbledore might even find out what Harry thought of his Head of house. During the Hippogriffs' feeding time, Dumbledore would give Hagrid a cutting from the Daily Prophet about the Gringotts break-in. Hagrid would be too busy to read it and would be likely to leave it hanging around.

The boy is supposed to be cunning, isn't he? And he wants to save the wizarding world? What a coincidence. There just happens to be a Philosopher's Stone in danger of being stolen in the school.

ooo

"Aah, Severus, you nicked the prize under Minerva's nose."

"Humph."

"The Sorting Hat told me the boy reminds it of you."

"You can tell the Sorting Hat..." Snape tried to think of some witticism about hats, knowing how much they annoyed the Headmaster, but could think of none.

"Minerva is quite upset. So what do you think, Severus?"

Severus said nothing. He hadn't thought yet. He had kept himself as busy as possible so as to avoid the moment when he would find himself alone and have to face the new reality. Like Dumbledore, he had automatically assumed this reincarnation of James Potter would be in Gryffindor.

"He is one of yours. I trust you treat him well." said Dumbledore.

"I always treat my students well."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Being in Slytherin might be a good thing for Harry. Though I must confess I am a bit worried about his proximity to Draco Malfoy."

Snape snorted.

"They are only slightly closer than they would have been, had Potter been in Gryffindor."

"They share a dormitory."

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? You are worried that young Malfoy might murder precious Potter in his sleep?"

"You know what I mean, Severus. And there is something else to consider. I hadn't paid much attention to the rumours claiming Harry Potter might be Dark wizard..."

"No eleven year old is a Dark wizard. Not even Malfoy. Not even Zabini."

"It's all in potential at this stage. If Harry Potter is a dark wizard in potential..."

"Then Slytherin is the right place for him. Is that what you mean?"

"You know as well as I do that Slytherin attracts that type of person."

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"If you decide the boy is really what you would consider to be a potential Dark wizard, do you trust me with him?'

"How would you act with him?"

"The way I usually do."

"I see. Severus, I expect you to report to me. I want to know how he fits in."

Severus grunted something that could pass for "Yes, sir".

"That's all for now, Severus. Who knows? The boy might come to see you as a father figure."

This time, Snape's grunt could definitely not pass for "Yes, sir".

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Goodnight, Severus."


	2. Chapter 2

Green and Silver

This is JK Rowling's world and characters, with one (major) difference.

ooo

2.

First Day

The following morning, Harry was awoken by a knock on the door.

"Time to get up!" called Pucey's voice. "Breakfast is at eight."

Hogwarts, Harry remembered.

Then: Slytherin.

Malfoy was sitting on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He gave an angry yawn, stretched and pulled his school robes towards him.

Harry imitated him. On the chair, next to the robe, lay a tie and a scarf in Slytherin colours.

"Those aren't mine," said Harry.

"Of course they are," huffed Zabini. "We've all got them."

"Did Professor Snape put them there?"

"Snape!"

Malfoy, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter. Nott's lips contorted themselves in a sort of smirk.

"It's the house-elves, pea-brain," groaned Malfoy, rolling his eyes.

Harry decided it was safer not to reveal he had no idea what house-elves were.

"So they're mine?", he said, half expecting Dudley to come and claim them.

"Of course, you scar-headed cuckoo. Get dressed and try and make your hair look tidy."

Harry shrugged. Nothing could make his hair look tidy.

"First years!" called Pucey. "Ready?"

In the Slytherin common-room, four girls joined the boys. They were led into the passage, that looked as gloomy as it had the night before.

Harry felt relief when they reached the stone steps leading to the Entrance Hall. Students were arriving from all sides to the Great Hall for breakfast.

They walked in and headed for the Slytherin table. Harry couldn't help glancing in the direction of Gryffindor. His heart lept as he caught sight of Ron's red hair.

To Malfoy's disgust, he rushed over to the Gryffindor table.

"Hi, Ron! How's Gryffindor?"

"Better than Slytherin," answered Ron. "Pass the sausages, Neville."

Neville obliged, stealing a curious glance at Harry.

Now that he had a dish of sausages to keep him busy, Ron ignored Harry. The experience was not new to Harry. He was used to being shunned at school, except that usually this happened because because of the other children's fear of Dudley. He had hoped things would be different at Hogwarts.

"Hi, Harry," said Hermione.

"Hi, Hermione."

At least someone was talking to him.

"How's Gryffindor?"

"Great!"

Her eyes sparkled.

"And Slytherin?"

"Er, all right."

It would have been okay if Hermione hadn't given him and I'm-so-sorry-for-you look.

Harry muttered, "See you", and trailed off to the Slytherin table.

"I told you not to mix with the wrong sort!" hissed Malfoy.

"You're both the wrong sort! I wish I was in Hufflepuff!" yelled Harry, slumping down next to Nott, who didn't look pleased to have such a noisy neighbour.

"Potter."

Snape's cold voice called from the staff table.

"If you shout like that again, I'll have to take points from Slytherin."

Malfoy smirked.

While a dumpy little witch appeared to be rebuking Snape, Malfoy bent over the table and whispered,

"Even you're not stupid enough to be in Hufflepuff. You're in the best house, so don't complain."

Harry ignored him. He picked up a small piece of toast.

"Better shake hands with me now. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Harry reached for the butter. He didn't like Malfoy. He had thought he liked Ron, but Ron had turned against him just because the Sorting Hat had seen fit to put him in Slytherin. Hogwarts was going to be just as lonely as every other place.

"You _are_ stubborn, aren't you?"

Yes, decided Harry. I'll be stubborn. He imitated Theodore Nott who was eating quietly and keeping to himself. Except that Nott was reading a book. Harry didn't feel like reading a book.

"First year timetables, Harry Potter," said a tall girl with a triangular face, handing him a piece of parchment.

Harry looked at it. Charms and Transfiguration, this morning. Well, it couldn't be worse than Muggle school...

Then a sudden rushing sound made Harry look up. He gasped. About a hundred owls were flying in circles above the tables, dropping letters and parcels on the tables.

"Aah, post," said Malfoy in a satisfied voice.

An eagle owl that looked just as self-satisfied as its master deposited a large parcel next to Malfoy, who opened it slowly, smirking. It was full of sweets and pastries. Crabbe and Goyle's eyes were popping out of their sockets.

Nothing had come for Harry.

Soon breakfast was over. Harry followed the other first years closely, as he had no idea where the Charms classroom was. As he reached the entrance of the Great Hall, a cold low voice called,

"Potter."

Harry gulped. Professor Snape was looking at him disapprovingly.

"I noticed you hardly ate any breakfast. Is the food not good enough for you?"

"Er, I wasn't hungry."

Snape probed Harry disbelievingly. Harry thought he saw something flicker, very deep, very far away in the black eyes.

"If you don't eat, you won't be able to study properly."

Snape turned impatiently to the Slytherin table. The food had disappeared.

"You had better eat lunch. I'll have an eye on you," he said, before walking off towards the dungeon in a swish of robes.

Harry had no idea eating was compulsory at Hogwarts. The Dursleys never objected if he skipped a meal.

"Here, Potter."

Malfoy was holding out what Harry recognised as a cauldron cake.

"Mother sent lots. I can share them with who I like."

Harry wondered if Malfoy was implying he liked him. But why would he like him? Only because he was famous.

"Come on, Professor Snape said you should eat. Just take it... and say thank you," he added, after reflection.

"Er, thanks then."

"You are welcome," said Malfoy, basking in his generosity. "Come on, Charms now. That little wizard, Flitwick, he's not quite human, Father says."

"Not quite human?"

But Malfoy didn't elaborate. He was trying to find the classroom and muttering about Crabbe and Goyle having run off.

When they finally got there, they managed to slip in together with Crabbe and Goyle who were the last ones in the row.

"Can't I do people favours without you two running off on me?" hissed Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle just gaped.

"Sit here, Potter," ordered Malfoy.

Harry wanted to protest, but all the other seats were taken.

The teacher, Professor Flitwick was a tiny little man with a squeaky voice.

"What is he if he isn't human?" whispered Harry.

"Goblin," said Malfoy contemptuously.

"Quiet there," squeaked Professor Flitwick. "Oh, my word, this is..." Instead of finishing his sentence, he slipped off the pile of cushions on which he had been standing.

The students guffawed. Harry was waiting for Professor Flitwick to reappear so that he could compare him to the Goblins he had seen at Gringotts.

"He doesn't look like a Goblin," he whispered, as Professor Flitwick started to call the students' names. "Except that he's small."

"... Parkinson."

A hard-faced girl put up her hand.

"Potter!" exclaimed Flitwick excitedly. "Welcome, Mr Potter!"

"Why didn't I get 'Welcome, Mr Malfoy'?" grumbled Malfoy.

Zabini didn't get "Welcome, Mr Zabini", either. Professor Flitwick began his lesson by explaining what Charms were. When they got to writing it down, Harry realised writing with a quill was far from being as easy as it looked. He was all the more embarrassed to notice than no one else, not even Crabbe and Goyle, made such a mess of it as he did. Malfoy had a great time giving out instructions in a condescending voice for the rest of the lesson.

Harry bit his tongue not to ask why he couldn't use a pen. Everything was so strange here.

The following lesson was Transfiguration. As he had done for Flitwick, Malfoy gave Harry some words of introduction about Professor McGonagall.

"She's prejudiced against Slytherin."

"Why? Because of V-... You Know Who?"

"They were prejudiced against Slytherin before the Dark Lord came along."

"Who's 'they'?"

"Everybody. Specially the Gryffs. McGonagall's Head of Gryffindor. She favours them and she hates us."

Thus prepared, Harry walked into Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall gave him an anxious, searching look, then glanced warily at Malfoy.

Again Malfoy sat next to Harry.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back."

"You see, I told you she hates us," whispered Malfoy, who, strangely, seemed quite happy about this.

Then Harry forgot about Malfoy. Professor McGonagall had changed her desk into a pig.

Again there were a lot of complicated notes to take with the quill. Professor McGonagall walked over to Harry to teach him how to use blotting parchment.

"Thanks, Professor, Malfoy showed me," he muttered.

"Oh," she said. looking quizzically at Malfoy. "Very good, Mr Malfoy."

Malfoy smirked.

Next they were given matches and instructed to turn them into needles. Zabini got detention for setting his desk on fire. Nott got complimented on his work.

"She'd never give me compliments in a million years," grumbled Malfoy.

"But she did. She said it was very good you helped me with the quill."

"That's because it's you. She wanted you in Gryffindor. Old hag."

How strange that everyone wanted him. Harry was so bewildered he forgot he didn't want to talk to Malfoy.

At lunch, Harry was careful to eat a decent amount of food. It wasn't very hard because his morning experiences with the new teachers, new subjects and writing with the quill had made him quite hungry. He looked towards the staff table to see if Snape was watching him, and indeed he was. Nothing any of Slytherins did seemed to escape Snape's attention.

After lunch, the Slytherin first years marched off to Defence Against the Dark Arts, Malfoy sniggering contemptuously.

"In Durmstrang, they teach you the Dark Arts, not stupid Defence. Have you seen that Quirrell? Afraid of his own shadow."

"What's Durmstrang?" asked Harry.

"A school. Father wanted to send me there, but Mother didn't like the idea of sending me so far away."

"Why? Where is it?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"D'you think they let everyone know?"

They had reached the Defence classroom.

The door rattled nervously on its hinges before opening to reveal a flustered looking Professor Quirrell. Indeed not an impressive teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Malfoy took place next to Harry, as usual.

"Urgh, I'm going to be sick," moaned one of the girls.

The classroom smelled strongly of garlic.

Quirrell stuttered his way through the register and got so excited, when he reached Harry, that he could hardly pronounce his name.

Harry was becoming tired of it.

"He's frightened of you," sneered Malfoy. "You defeated the Dark Lord."

"I've done nothing," grumbled Harry.

"Neither has he, I suspect," whispered Zabini.

Both he and Malfoy were giving Quirrell such scathing looks, Harry thought they ought to be the ones who made Quirrell nervous, not himself.

"Y-you s-surely wonder..."

"How you became a teacher," whispered Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle giggled.

"...w-why I am w-wearing a t-turban."

Harry hadn't wondered about that at all. Everything was so strange here that he saw no reason why a Hogwarts teacher shouldn't wear a turban.

"It's a p-present from an African prince."

"Why does it stink then?" asked one of the girls.

"It isn't the t-turban. It's garlic. I am going to teach you the virtues of garlic."

"Muggles say garlic keeps witches away," whispered Harry. He felt the need to tell Malfoy something he didn't know.

"I bet it does," said Malfoy.

Three of the four girls were holding handkerchiefs over their noses.

"I g-got this turban as a th-thank you for-for getting rid of a..."

Quirrell's eyes widened.

"...z-z-zombie."

He shuddered.

"_You_ got rid of a zombie?" said Zabini. "Who was the African prince?"

For some reason, Quirrell turned pink under his turban, which made him look like a strawberry ice-cream.

"Ah, well... I am not sup-posed to tell you. T-too hard to p-pronounce, anyway. Th-there was such a storm on that night, one could ha-hardly stand..."

"Did the prince lose his crown?" asked the hard-faced girl.

"A-African princes don't wear crowns."

"They wear turbans? I thought turbans were what they wear in India."

"L-let's get on to the l-lesson," stuttered Quirrel desperately.

The lesson consisted of copying down a boring list of what exactly the Dark Arts were - still with the quill. Harry's hands were covered in ink and so was his robe. He was glad it was black.

"I'll tell Father about him", huffed Draco, at the end of the lesson. "He'll have a good laugh."

.

In the evening, Harry was exhausted. They already had homework. He declined a game of Exploding Snap (whatever that was) and headed straight for bed.

He had no nightmares, that night, and no visit from Snape - for all he knew.

ooo

To Dumbledore's relief, none of the teachers had detected any Dark tendencies on Harry's first day.

"He's a nice boy," reported Flitwick. "Very likeable. He has some difficulty getting used to writing with a quill, but that's common among first years who have grown up in a Muggle environment. And Mr Malfoy was very eager to help him."

"He seems reasonably talented," said Minerva McGonagall. " Of course, it's too soon to determine whether he has inherited his father's gift for Transfiguration. I was surprised to see Draco Malfoy acting friendly and helpful towards him."

"P-Potter?" stuttered Quirrell. "Q-quite m-modest for the B-Boy Who Lived..."


	3. Chapter 3

Green and Silver

This is JK Rowling's world with one (major) difference.

ooo

3.

The Potions Master

Harry spent his first weeks at Hogwarts discovering the mysteries of the castle and its inhabitants.

He met Peeves, the poltergeist, and learned from Pucey how to turn him on the Gryffindors. Harry enjoyed this opportunity of getting back at Ron.

There was Argus Filch, the caretaker, to whom the Slytherins were polite and condescending because Professor Snape was nice to him.

"He's a Squib," Malfoy told Harry.

"A what?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes with relish.

"You know nothing at all! A Squib is like a Mudblood, except the other way round."

"What's a Mudblood?" asked Harry patiently.

"A Mudblood is someone who has Muggle parents. A Squib is the opposite."

"The opposite?"

"Someone who has wizard parents, but no magic powers."

It took Harry some time to digest all this, but Squib or not, being on Filch's good side seemed like a good idea.

They studied Herbology in the greenhouses behind the castle, together with the Ravenclaws, who stared at Harry until the lesson began, and then turned their attention to the magical plants. The teacher, Professor Sprout, was Head of Hufflepuff.

"She dresses like a Hufflepuff too," remarked Malfoy. "And look at her hair! Look at her nails!"

("I was happily surprised," Professor Sprout reported to Dumbledore. "I had expected young Potter to be a new edition of his father. On the other hand, it's hard to show off when Draco Malfoy is explaining the basics to you.")

Every Tuesday at midnight, they climbed up the Astronomy Tower to study the skies through their telescopes under the direction of a petite, frizzy-haired teacher called Professor Sinistra. She gave Harry curious looks and Malfoy wary ones, which caused him to question her blood status.

("Sweet boy, a little undernourished," was her report.)

History of magic, taught by a ghost named Professor Binns, was the most boring of all. Harry had never imagined a ghost could be boring.

("Who? Perkins? Remind me what he looks like...")

On Friday morning, the only subject they hadn't started yet was Potions. That was the day Hedwig brought Harry his first letter at breakfast. It was from Hagrid.

"_Would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?"_

This cheered Harry immensely. Hagrid still wanted to be his friend.

He swallowed a mouthful of porridge with an eye on Professor Snape.

"Letter from the Muggles?" said Malfoy.

"None of your business," muttered Harry, pulling out his quill.

He was about to open his ink bottle when Crabbe, leaning over the table towards the sausages, knocked it into Harry's porridge where it smashed. The Slytherin table exploded with laughter.

Harry stared at his porridge that was rapidly turning to grey mud.

"Hey!"

Malfoy had snatched his letter.

"Hagrid knows how to write?"

"Give that here, Malfoy!"

"Potter."

Professor Snape was standing next to him.

"I believe I have already warned you not to shout at the table. What is this mess supposed to be?"

"Porridge and ink," muttered Harry. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle tittered.

Snape looked disgusted.

"Your table manners are a disgrace, Potter."

"It's not his fault, sir," said Malfoy in his patronising tone. "Crabbe knocked the bottle over by mistake."

Crabbe glared at him.

"I see."

"I want to answer my letter," said Harry.

"Hagrid's inviting him, sir. Should he go?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Quiet, Potter. I do not tolerate shouting at the table. I understand you are trying to answer your letter."

"I'll help you," said Malfoy. "What should I write? Should Potter go to Hagrid, sir?"

"Do you know how to use a quill, Potter?"

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"I need ink,' muttered Harry.

"Take mine," said Malfoy.

"Five points form Slytherin," said Snape, swishing back to the staff table.

Hedwig had fled the commotion and was watching from afar, perched on Hagrid's shoulder. Harry felt it was a bit silly to call her over to bring a message to Hagrid, but he didn't have the courage to go over to the staff table and face Snape again. It was enough that he would have to spend the morning with him in Potions class, and, what made things worse, with the Gryffindors.

Since Harry's unsuccessful attempt to speak to Ron on his first morning, Ron had been actively ignoring him, making a big show of turning his back on Harry and talking to someone else whenever he caught sight of him. Hermione always looked sorry for him, Neville either dropped things or tripped and fell whenever Harry crossed his path, and the rest of the Gryffindors - two boys and two girls - whispered behind his back in an unfriendly way.

"Come on, we'd better not let the Gryffs get there first," said Malfoy.

He led Harry to the Potions classroom as if the dungeons were his own private kingdom.

The door was shut. They lined up in the corridor.

"Potions is very dangerous," said Malfoy. "Professor Snape takes extra care to make the classroom safe."

"Does he really favour us?" asked Tracey Davis nervously.

By now, Harry knew the Slytherin girls, at least by sight. The one with the hard face was Pansy Parkinson, and she didn't have a hard face when she spoke to Draco, or when she giggled with the other girls. Her friend was Daphne Greengrass, who had aristocratic manners like Malfoy, but was less annoying. The big girl who had a cat was Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis was always nervous and anxious.

"Of course," said Malfoy.

Voices echoed in the passage and the Gryffindors joined them, clustered around Ron. All of them stared at Harry, except Ron who was having a glaring contest with Malfoy.

The door opened and Professor Snape ushered them inside.

In class, the two groups sat separately. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy took place next to Harry.

"You'd better be better than these two," he said, indicating Crabbe and Goyle.

"If I'm not, will you sit somewhere else?" grumbled Harry.

"Brown," called Snape.

A curly-haired blonde raised her hand. Snape glared at her for being a Gryffindor.

"Bulstrode."

Snape didn't glare at her. She was a Slytherin.

Snape called everyone's name, silently giving each one the message, "Slytherins, I expect great things from you; Gryffindors, beware".

This struck Harry as rather funny. Professor Sprout had made no distinction between the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws.

"Potter. What are you smirking about?"

"Er..."

Did Snape really expect a reply or was it a blame disguised as a question, as Uncle Vernon was accustomed to address him?

It must have been the latter, for Snape continued, without waiting for an answer,

"You'll soon find out there is nothing to giggle about in this class. Thomas."

Thomas was a Gryffindor.

After Snape had given Zabini the Slytherin message, he held a little speech about the beauty and power of potions, which had a strange effect on Malfoy. The boy looked at Snape the way Muggle boys looked at football stars. Snape was Malfoy's hero.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. Potter!"

Harry jumped.

"What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Was he supposed to know that?

"I don't know, sir."

"Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?'

What's a bezoar?

Malfoy and Snape exchanged a look, as if they were exchanging a private joke. Around them, every single student of both houses seemed to be making fun of Harry, except Hermione, who was jumping up and down with her hand in the air, and Neville, who looked terrified. Ron was laughing louder than anyone.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh Potter?"

Harry forced himself to look straight at Snape. He thought he saw that flicker again, far away in the dark eyes. Fascinated, he kept looking, while Snape kept interrogating.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know."

Snape tut-tutted in an exasperated way and barked at Ron to be quiet and at Hermione to sit down. Whatever Harry thought he had seen in the dark tunnel eyes had been swallowed up by emptiness.

"Malfoy," said Snape. "Teach Potter everything you know."

Malfoy was delighted.

Professor Snape then proceeded to pair them all up and made them prepare what he said was a simple potion to cure boils. Harry was glad to be working with Malfoy, as he seemed to be the only one who knew what he was doing, a fact Snape didn't refrain from pointing out.

Things got worse when Seamus Finnigan's cauldron suddenly collapsed. Potion oozed across the classroom.

"Feet out of the way!" warned Malfoy, who had climbed onto his stool.

Harry perched next to him.

"I told you it was dangerous stuff. Longbottom shouldn't be allowed here." Malfoy turned up his nose.

Neville was covered in boils.

"Idiot boy!"

Snape waved his wand to clean up the spilled potion, under Malfoy's admiring gaze. He shooed Neville and Finnigan to the hospital wing and turned to Ron and Hermione who had been sitting closest to them.

"You", he said to Hermione, "why didn't you tell him to add the quills?"

She turned scarlet.

Malfoy sniggered.

"What has she got to do with it?" whispered Harry.

"She's a Gryff," Malfoy whispered back.

Snape glared at them.

"To those who, like Miss Granger and Mr Potter, believe they are alone in this classroom, and in this world..."

Hermione went redder than her Gryffindor tie.

"I don't think that!" protested Harry.

"You had better not. When there are idiots around, one must keep one's eyes open."

The Gryffindors looked mutinous, but none of them dared to say anything.

Harry had the vague impression he had just been told he was not an idiot.

Not that that added to his popularity.

He put his nose back in his cauldron, while Snape hovered around, hissing as much as Neville's potion had.

"Keep your tears out of the cauldron!" he barked suddenly.

Hermione looked at the door, as if she was thinking of fleeing, but she didn't. Instead, she wiped her eyes.

"That Mudblood's got to be taught her place," whispered Malfoy. "Guess what tears do to potion."

"How do you know?"

Malfoy's cheeks turned pale pink and, except for giving Harry orders and criticising his work, he was quiet for the rest of the lesson.

.

"I don't understand," said Harry, as they walked out of the classroom. "How come Neville got boils? Professor Snape said it was a potion to _cure_ boils."

"When you do something wrong, it has the opposite effect of what you want," said Nott in a bored voice. "Especially in Potions."

"Come on, let's get a start on McG's homework," commanded Malfoy as they entered the Slytherin common room.

"Not now. I'm going to see Hagrid."

Malfoy pulled a disgusted face.

"He's very nice, you know."

Malfoy pulled a longer face.

"Next you'll be visiting Longbottom in hospital."

"Is he staying there?"

"Of course not. You're such an idiot, Potter."

"Thanks."

As soon as he reached the grounds, Harry began to skip with anticipation. The autumn sun had cleared the gloom of the dungeons away. And for once, Malfoy wasn't on his heels telling him how to do things

Hagrid's hut only had one room which served as kitchen, dining room and bedroom, but it was most welcoming.

"I s'pose Slytherin's not that bad, eh, Harry? Only don't go hangin' around with the Malfoy boy. That family's bad news."

"I don't want to, but he keeps following me everywhere."

"Well, try 'n keep away from him. Is there anyone else worthwhile in Slytherin? 'Xcept you, of course..."

"I don't know. Hagrid, why am I in Slytherin? Is it really a bad house?"

"Tut, tut!" said Hagrid. He seemed rather disturbed by the whole thing.

"Is Slytherin really bad?" insisted Harry.

"I dunno... They get funny types in Slytherin."

"Am I a funny type?"

"Of course not! And you can make friends elsewhere."

This sounded pretty bad to Harry. To take his mind off feeling sorry for himself, he pulled out a piece of parchment that was half hidden by the tea-cosy. It was an article cut out from The Daily Prophet.

_"Break-in at Gringotts on 31 July _(...)_ Goblins insisted nothing has been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day."_

"Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might have been happening while we were there!"

Hagrid grunted and offered Harry another rock cake.

Could they have been looking for the little package Hagrid had taken out? Harry pondered about this mystery, if only to take his mind off Slytherin and Malfoy.

.

This was hard to do, as Harry had to spend most of his time with the other Slytherin students. Hagrid's question, "Is there anyone else worthwhile in Slytherin?" kept ringing in his ears.

Hagrid didn't find Malfoy 'worthwhile', but he was impossible to shake away. Everywhere Harry went, Malfoy followed, with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind.

Zabini watched all this and smirked. Harry wasn't sure whether he was making fun of Malfoy or of him.

The most 'worthwhile' of the lot seemed to be Theodore Nott. Harry tried to sit next to him whenever he managed to get away from Malfoy. Unfortunately, this did not happen often. Nott responded with indifference, which suited Harry just fine after everyone else's over-involvement.

.

Then, just as Harry had thought he was now familiar with all his new subjects and teachers, a notice appeared in the Slytherin common room announcing that flying lessons would be starting on the following Tuesday.

"Flying lessons!" humphed Malfoy. "Well, _I_ don't need them. Even Father agrees I should be on the team."

Everyone spoke about Quidditch in the dorm that night. Harry hid his head under his pillow behind the drawn curtains to drown out this one more difference between himself and the other boys. Harry knew nothing about Quidditch and, as if things weren't bad enough, he was now going to make a fool of himself on a broom in front of both Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley.

ooo

According to Hagrid, Harry had read the newspaper cutting, and even noticed that the break-in had taken place on the day he had been at Gringotts with Hagrid, which had cleverly coincided with his birthday.

But according to Filch, Harry had been nowhere near the third floor corridor. What made things harder was that Draco Malfoy almost never left Harry's side. It would be very difficult to lure Harry there without also attracting Malfoy, who wouldn't fail to mention the presence of a three-headed dog in his next letter home.

Dumbledre didn't actually mind Lucius Malfoy knowing about Fluffy, as the whole point of Fluffy was to draw potential thieves' attention, and Lucius Malfoy had useful connections. What did bother Dumbledore was that Lucius would certainly complain to the board of governors.

As Hagrid's house was the only place Draco Malfoy did not accompany Harry, Dumbledore made sure Hagrid would invite Harry every week.

Snape's report was that the boy was noisy and clumsy and had no talent for Potions. If Dumbledore had hoped Harry's unexpected Sorting would gain him favour in Snape's eyes, nothing of the sort had happened yet. But things might still change. After all, Harry had only been at school for a week.


	4. Chapter 4

Green and Silver

This is JK Rowling's world, with one change.

ooo

4.

The Invitation

Before Harry knew it, it was Thursday morning and he was sitting at breakfast between Nott, who had closed his book to read a letter brought by a sullen grey owl, and Malfoy, who was presiding over a distribution of sweets to those deemed worthy.

Harry ate quietly and conscientiously, with an eye on Professor Snape. Letters were too much trouble anyway. They needed to be answered with ink and quill and Crabbe was never far away.

"What's that Longbottom's got?" said Malfoy suddenly.

Harry peered across the Dining Hall, past Ravenclaw and and Hufflepuff, to the Gryffindor table, where Neville was showing something to Ron.

Nonchalantly, Malfoy got up and began to strut across the Hall. (He did a great job of strutting nonchalantly.) Crabbe and Goyle scraped back their chairs, got up heavily and followed him. The trio looked quite funny, a little prince escorted by his two large bodyguards, but Harry wasn't sure that was what was making Pansy Parkinson giggle.

Zabini pocketed a handful of sweets.

When he reached Neville, the little prince dropped his nonchalance to snatch whatever the other boy had in his hand.

"Uh, oh," said Zabini.

Professor McGonagall had appeared at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy let go of whatever it was and retraced his steps.

"What was it, Draco?" asked Pansy.

"A Remembrall."

Pansy giggled.

"Completely useless. Now the idiot's wondering what he's forgotten."

Pansy giggled louder.

Harry filled his mouth with porridge so as not to ask what a Remembrall was.

ooo

The flying lesson was much better than Harry had expected.

As soon as they were outside, Harry had felt better. Trees, grass and sunshine always cheered him up.

The Slytherins arrived first, to find twenty broomsticks lying in two rows on the ground.

"Pathetic old things," muttered Malfoy.

As usual, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy giggled. It was becoming annoying. You would think everything that came out of Malfoy's voice was highly amusing.

Then the Gryffindors joined them . Malfoy glared at Ron and opened his mouth to make some disparaging remark, but the teacher, Madam Hooch, had arrived too. She barked at them to go and stand by the brooms.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"

"Up!" commanded Malfoy. The broom sprang into his hand.

"Up!" said Harry.

The broom obeyed. This was much easier to handle than a quill.

Malfoy tapped his feet impatiently while Madam Hooch walked along the rows, helping those who couldn't get it right, such as Tracey Davis, Hermione and Neville. Malfoy pretended not to notice Tracey couldn't do it, but made remarks about Gryffindor Mudbloods and Squibs.

"Mudbloods and Squibs?" repeated Harry, trying to remember which was which.

"Now mount your brooms."

Harry and Malfoy obeyed eagerly.

"Not like that, Malfoy. Your wand hand forward, directing the broom and the other hand closer to you, controlling it."

"Why?" huffed Malfoy.

"Because that's the way it's done."

"I have been putting my left hand forward all my life," said Malfoy, making it sound as if he were a contemporary of Dumbledore.

"Well, that's a lifetime of error," snapped Madam Hooch.

Malfoy scowled.

"When I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground."

But before the whistle was anywhere near Madam Hooch's lips, Neville suddenly shot upwards, lost grip of his broom and crashed down.

Madam Hooch ran over to him, horrified.

"Broken wrist," she muttered, helping Neville up.

Tears streamed down Neville's face. He was very pale. For some reason, Madam Hooch was as pale as he.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing."

As soon as they were gone, Malfoy laughed loudly.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

"The old hag's all upset," tittered Pansy. "She's afraid Gran Longbottom's is going to turn up with her mothy old bird."

The Slytherin girls giggled.

Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle were holding a mini-competition to see who could make the best imitation of Neville falling off his broom.

"Look!" said Malfoy, picking up a glass ball from the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him."

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Ron.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect - how about up a tree?"

The next minute, he was soaring towards the top of the oak tree.

"Come and get it, Weasley!"

Ron jumped on his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move."

Ron began to yell at her. She yelled back and tugged at his broom.

All the while, Malfoy was graciously circling the tree. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy applauded. Even the Gryffindors (except for Ron and Hermione who were too busy arguing) showed reluctant admiration.

Malfoy looked free and happy, much more than he had on the ground.

Harry's broom vibrated in his hand. Something irresistible inside him was crying out, "_I_ want to do that," and reasoning, "If Malfoy can do it, so can I".

On an impulse, Harry kicked off the ground.

This was wonderful. No wonder Malfoy enjoyed it.

Harry swished happily around the oak tree, grinning at Malfoy. The two boys engaged in a sort of dance, hardly hearing the screams that came up from the grounds. Madam Hooch, Neville and his Remembrall were completely forgotten.

ooo

He flies as well as his father, observed Dumbledore, who was peering out of his office window. He will probably make the Slytherin team next year. What a waste.

ooo

"Boys!"

Professor McGonagall was standing on the pitch, looking absolutely livid.

The dance stopped and the boys looked at each other. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy grinned, a real grin that wasn't a smirk. It made him look almost friendly.

"Get down at once, both of you!" shouted Professor McGonagall.

Malfoy didn't move until Harry had begun his descent.

"How dare you - might have broken your neck -"

"I wouldn't have broken my neck, Professor. I know how to fly," said Malfoy, dismounting with aristocratic nonchalance.

"It is absolutely forbidden for first years to fly without supervision. And you, Potter... come with me, both of you."

They trudged behind her, Malfoy looking slightly less self-assured. Harry was sure they were going to be expelled. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up at their front door?

Up the steps into the Entrance Hall, down the stone staircase to the dungeons and along the gloomy passageway they followed her. Finally she stopped in front of a door and knocked.

"Enter," said Professor Snape's voice.

Professor McGonagall walked in, beckoning the two boys to follow her.

The Potions classroom had been gloomy, but Professor Snape's office was worse. There were even more glass jars with even more revolting slimy things along the walls. Malfoy looked a little happier, though.

Professor Snape was sitting at the desk. He looked up from his parchments and raised his eyebrows.

"Professor, these two boys have been flying on broomsticks without adult supervision. I regret to have to take fifty points from Slytherin for each of them and they are getting detention."

This time it wasn't a far-away flicker that appeared in Snape's black eyes, but all-too-close flashes of anger.

"Leave them to me."

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly and walked out.

"But sir, I can fly!" said Malfoy, as soon as Professor McGonagall had disappeared. "Can't I, Potter?"

Harry looked up from the floor.

"If Professor McGonagall says you were flying, then obviously you can fly, silly boy!" hissed Snape.

"So why shouldn't I? I'm not Longbottom!"

"Longbottom has nothing to do here, I believe. Was he also flying without supervision?"

"Sort of."

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows again.

"He didn't do it on purpose," intervened Harry.

"And did you?"

"Well... yes, sir."

"First years are forbidden to fly without adult supervision. You have surely been told that by Madam Hooch. You have been acting in an irresponsible manner. I have half a mind to deprive you of flying lessons..."

"I don't need any. I can fly," interrupted Malfoy.

"But I see from your attitude that this would only make things worse," continued Snape in a louder voice. "First years' flying skills must be examined by Madam Hooch. As it seems that you, indeed, can fly, and as the Slytherin Quidditch team needs good fliers..."

"Oh, sir! Can I be on the team, sir?"

"If you interrupt me again, you will get extra detention, Draco."

"Oh, sir!"

"Quiet. Listen to me. If ever I hear you have been flying without permission again, either of you, I will have to deprive you of flying lessons altogether. Potter, where did you learn to fly?"

Harry looked up in surprise.

"I never learned, sir."

"So how could you have been foolish enough... how high were you flying?"

"The... the top of the tree," muttered Harry.

"You could have broken your neck, idiot boy! What led you to believe you could fly?"

"I dunno..."

"Stupid boys, both of you! You deserve your detention. And as much as I dislike seeing points taken from Slytherin, you deserved that too. Follow me."

Professor Snape led the boys out of the dungeons and back to the grounds.

"Madam Hooch!" he shouted, as soon as they were in sight of the Quidditch pitch. "Never, ever leave these boys without supervision. They could have killed themselves."

"But, sir..."

"Quiet, Draco. What did I say about interrupting? The Headmaster will hear about this and I shall be in his office watching you."

Snape stamped away angrily.

Madam Hooch was in a bad mood for the rest of the lesson.

ooo

"You shouldn't have followed me!" snarled Malfoy, on their way back to the castle. "Now both Snape and Hooch are cross with me because of you!"

"Because of me? Well, that's rich!'

"I can fly, idiot!"

"So can I."

Malfoy stopped in his tracks.

"You never learned? Really?" he said in a different voice.

"Really. I grew up with Muggles, remember?"

A sort of smile was tugging at Malfoy's lips.

"Give back Neville's Remembrall!"

Ron had caught up with them.

Malfoy's half-smile disappeared abruptly.

"Go and get it, blood traitor!"

He pulled the transparent ball out of his robes and threw it as far as he could. But Ron didn't go after the ball. He marched onto Malfoy, fist raised.

"Don't! You'll get in trouble. He's not worth it."

There was Hermione restraining Ron again. Malfoy smirked derisively and pulled Harry away from them.

"What's a blood traitor?" said Harry.

Malfoy looked amused.

"You know nothing at all. It's high time I began your education. I might just make something out of you."

"You're not going to make anything out of me!"

"Listen," said Malfoy, as they walked towards the castle. "You're in Slytherin. Not everybody gets into Slytherin. You're not like Weasley."

"What does that mean?"

"That means he grew up in a sty."

"What?"

"What I said. You... you need to learn things, that's all."

Harry shrugged. He was all too aware, though, that Malfoy was right. He did "need to learn things".

In the Dining Hall, Malfoy took place next to Harry, as usual..

"Look at him," he said, pointing over to the Gryffindor table.

Malfoy had a point: Ron's table manners weren't much better than Dudley's.

"I'll teach you. Want to come to me for Christmas?"

Harry dropped his fork.

"You haven't even been taught table manners, I see. Hold your fork in your left hand, like this..."

"Leave me alone!"

"Seriously, Potter, want to come for Christmas?"

"I... don't know."

"Or visit the sty?"

"I haven't been invited."

"You're lucky. It stinks there."

"Have you been there?"

"Potter, you don't have to go to a pigsty to know it stinks. Come to me and I'll show you things."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he filled his mouth with mashed potato.

"How's the food at the Muggles?"

Harry turned his mashed potato in his mouth, considering.

"All right."

"Here too, it's all right, but at home it's different."

"Ah?"

"Come on, just say yes."

"Don't you need to ask your parents?"

"Oh, they'll be delighted. They want us to be friends."

"Because I'm famous."

"No, it's not like that."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall.

"I want you boys in my office for detention as soon as you have finished dinner," she said.

"We can fly," continued Malfoy after she had gone. "We have good brooms, not like the school ones. I've got a Comet Two Sixty, you'll see."

Harry had no idea what a Comet Two Sixty was, but, to his surprise, he found himself conversing amiably with Malfoy as they made their way to Professor McGonagall's office.

McGonagall made them sit separately and write about why it was dangerous for first-years to fly unsupervised, even if they thought they knew how to fly. Harry couldn't help thinking Professor Snape would have approved.

ooo

_"Dear Severus,_

_Our son Draco has expressed the wish to invite young Harry Potter to Malfoy Manor for the Christmas holidays. Narcissa and I would be very happy to have him over. This young man's Sorting speaks in his favour. With some good training, he might be able to redeem the name of Potter and return to the noble traditions of his ancestors, the Peverells. He could then become the sort of friend I wish my son to have. (...)_

_Lucius Malfoy"_

_._

_"Dear Lucius,_

_A friendship between Draco and Harry Potter would, no doubt, be in the interests of both boys. I am well placed to know how grateful one can be to have a good friend of the house of Malfoy. Therefore, I would be glad to send young Potter to Malfoy Manor, if his guardians give their permission, of course._

_However I would like to express one reserve. If the political situation came to change in the direction you wish, our new leaders might have different views on the subject. (...)_

_Severus"_

_._

_"Dear Severus,_

_Are we not all Slytherins? This boy's Sorting_ _seems__ to confirm certain suspicions about the nature of talents he may possess. I have no doubt that we will be able to deal with whatever the future brings when the time comes. (...)_

_Lucius"_

ooo

A few days later, Harry was summoned to Professor Snape's office. He wondered what he had done wrong this time. Fortunately, Professor Snape wasted no time in preambles and got immediatley to the matter at hand.

"I have just received an owl from Mr Malfoy, Draco's father. It appears Draco has invited you for the holidays."

"Er, yes sir."

"Have you accepted?"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't formally accepted, but his relationship with Draco Malfoy had warned up considerably since the invitation. The two boys talked about Quidditch a lot. Malfoy had taught Harry all there was to know about the game and Harry was eager to try it.

"I am pleased to hear you are friends," said Snape, though he didn't look very pleased. But then, Snape never looked pleased.

"If your relatives consent..."

"My relatives don't want to see me until next summer."

The far-away flicker was back. It was becoming familiar.

"If they have no objection..."

"They couldn't care less."

"So I understand the decision is yours."

Harry said nothing.

"I know the Malfoys well," continued Snape. "They are a well-respected family."

Now Harry was confused. Hadn't Hagrid told him just the opposite?

"What is troubling you, Potter?"

"I don't know... I have heard some people think differently."

"What people?"

Again Harry said nothing. He didn't want to get Hagrid into trouble and it felt rather silly to say "Ron Weasley".

Snape gave Harry a piercing look.

"I see," he sighed.

Harry wondered what he saw.

"As I have told you, I know the Malfoys well. They are a very influential family. Draco seems to like you..."

"Only because I'm famous."

"I don't think that is true any more. Your... performance on a broom has had a positive result. I think it would be a good thing to accept this invitation."

Harry longed to ask Hagrid what he thought.

Snape's eyes were piercing him again.

"The Malfoys are not liked by all, nor do they like everyone in the wizarding world," said Snape. "You must have realised by now, our world has its dissensions."

Harry nodded.

"This can be confusing to a newcomer."

Harry nodded again, but, for some reason, Professor Snape had abruptly turned his back on him to move some jars around on a shelf.

"Have you..." The jars clanged loudly. "Have you been told how your parents died?"

Snape's voice was hard to hear above the clanging.

"Yes, sir. Hagrid told me."

The jars stopped moving, but Professor Snape didn't turn around.

"You have heard of the Dark Lord?"

"You mean Voldemort?"

"Don't say his name!"

"Sorry. Yes, sir. He killed my parents."

The jars began to move again, first slowly, then so violently Harry was sure one of them would end up smashed. Snape heaved a heavy sigh.

"You may have been told that when the Dark Lord was in power, his influence spread mostly to Slytherin students."

"I heard he was in Slytherin himself."

"He was. Slytherin was best suited to his brilliant mind. That explains why his following was mostly among Slytherin families."

"Like the Malfoys."

"Yes."

"You're telling me the Malfoys were really Vol-... You Know Who's supporters?"

"Sir."

Harry stared.

"You are to address me as 'sir' or 'Professor'."

"Er, yes sir."

"When the Dark Lord fell, the Malfoys claimed to have been, ah, bewitched."

"They claimed? You mean it wasn't true?"

There was a silence during which the jars danced around the shelves.

"It's not up to me to judge. I am just giving you the basis of the rumours concerning the Malfoys."

Harry frowned, feeling he was being given a confusing double-message.

"I can't go, then."

"What reason will you give Draco?"

"Vol-... You Know-... the Dark Lord killed my parents!"

At last, Snape turned to face Harry. The flicker was still there.

"He knows that."

"Does he know his parents were the Dark Lord's followers?"

"I am not sure how much Draco knows. All this happened when both of you were very small. But Draco likes you, and your friendship will be based on a shared interest. It should not be affected by events that neither of you remembers."

"But his parents? What if they try to kill me?"

"They won't. They would be delighted to have you stay with Draco and teach you about our world. I will just ask you not to mention this conversation to anyone."

"So they shouldn't know that I know that they..."

"That would make things easier for everyone."

"I don't think I should be going."

"Try it once. For Draco. I'll come over and visit. I doubt anything should go wrong, but if it did, you have an owl?"

"Yes, sir."

"Be assured that I will check on you, even though I believe all will go well. I would like you and Draco to be friends."

"Why?"

"You'll be surprised to know Malfoys can be very good friends."

ooo

"What do you hope to achieve, Severus? Having Lucius Malfoy as your mentor never did _you_ any good."

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"I beg to disagree, Headmaster."

"Don't be a fool, Severus. Lucius Malfoy turned you into a Death Eater."

"I turned myself into a Death Eater."

"Indeed, and back again. I do not undervalue the importance of choice, as you know. Yet Harry still knows very little about the wizarding world."

"The Malfoys will teach him. A Malfoy's friendship is a precious thing to have."

"The word 'useful' would be a better one. The Malfoys are not the people I would have chosen to introduce Harry to the wizarding world."

"You prefer the Dursleys, no doubt."

"I prefer Harry to be surrounded with people who are not Death Eaters biding their time until Voldemort's return."

"Have you ever considered, Headmaster, that the Malfoys could be the best protection for the boy?"

"When Voldemort returns, all he will have to do is walk into Malfoy Manor and grab Harry."

"Who says Lucius will hand over his son's best friend so easily?"

"Lucius is Voldmort's puppet. You are putting the boy's head into the lion's mouth."

"Lion's?"

Dumbledore clucked with annoyance.

"Potter is in Slytherin," continued Snape. "He is much better off on Draco's good side. Anyway, what excuse could I give to prevent him from going?"

"You could easily have given him detention."

"Each time the Malfoys invite him?"

"I could get Hagrid to dissuade Harry..."

"With all due respect, Headmaster, Harry Potter is in Slytherin. He is not a lost cub who has fallen in the snake pit by mistake. He is one of us. Hagrid has to live with this."

And so do you, glinted the black eyes.

"Harry must know what the Malfoys are," said Dumbledore flatly.

"I have told him."

"Harry knows the Malfoys are followers of the man who murdered his parents?"

"Were."

"You know as well as I do that they still are. What was Harry's reaction?"

"He hesitated. I encouraged him to accept."

"Why didn't you ask me first?"

"I am Harry Potter's Head of house. I didn't realise I had to ask your permission for every decision concerning him."

Dumbledore sank into his throne-like chair. Snape's proximity to Harry Potter was making him far too rebellious.

"I know you care about Harry, Severus. Please think this over again."

"Potter will be on his guard, and I'll keep an eye on him. This friendship is the best thing for both of the boys."

"Friendship?"

Dumbledore seemed to sink lower in his seat.

"Friendship with the wrong people can be very dangerous, Severus..."

"Lucius loves his son more than anything in the world," said Snape in a low voice.

It was the first time Dumbledore had heard the word "love" in Snape's mouth. And he was pretty sure there would not be a second one. How ironic that it should be associated with Lucius Malfoy.

Albus Dumbledore had lost this battle. But not the war.


	5. Chapter 5

Green and Silver

All fan fiction written by Swallow B. is a tribute to JK Rowling.

ooo

5.

Hallowe'en

Having a new interest and a new friend made life much more enjoyable for Harry. Flying lessons became the highlight of his week. Malfoy had condescended to change his life-long habit and use his right hand to guide his broom, "to keep the old hag quiet". Soon Madam Hooch allowed Harry and Malfoy to fly unsupervised and play real Quidditch with the older students.

Malfoy was not anyone's usual idea of a friend. He was bossy, arrogant and bigoted. But he was the closest to a friend Harry had ever had, apart from Hagrid, and to have a friend, any friend, Harry was willing to make concessions. Malfoy introduced Harry to magic tricks, vocabulary and concepts which helped him make sense of a lot of what was going on around him. Furthermore, anyone who was Malfoy's protege was widely respected in Slytherin.

Of course, Hagrid was friendlier, but he was a grown man. He didn't sit in class with Harry. His earthy simplicity counterbalanced Malfoy's conceit. On the other hand, no consideration was gained from being the gamekeeper's friend. And when it came to prejudices, Hagrid was just as opinionated as Malfoy. Malfoy called Hagrid an oaf and Hagrid claimed the Malfoys were "rotten ter the core" and "not worth listenin' ter".

Harry was learning that to be a Slytherin meant living with ambiguity.

Lessons were easier now that Harry had mastered writing with a quill. Everything was becoming more and more interesting, except Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic.

The dungeons were a lot less creepy once you knew your way around.

In other words, after two months at Hogwarts, Harry felt quite at home.

He wasn't surprised to hear Hallowe'en was a big affair at his new school. It was to be his first festive occasion here. Everyone was very excited. Even Crabbe and Goyle became unusually talkative when it came to the food that was to be served at the feast.

The smell of baking pumpkin was all over the school. It even worked hard at getting into the dungeons.

Time finally came for the long-awaited feast. Harry gaped as he entered the Dining Hall. It was full of bats, flying or clustered around the walls and ceiling. When you were least expecting it, one of them would swoop over the table and knock someone's hat off. The Hall was illuminated by candles floating in mid-air, as usual, but tonight they were all inside grimacing pumpkin shells.

When food appeared in the golden plates, Crabbe and Goyle were positively drooling. Daphne held her hands over her plate to protect it from the bats, and Tracey quickly followed her example.

'Do you know what Muggles do for Hallowe'en?" began Harry. But before he had time to teach Malfoy anything he didn't know, Quirrell had burst into the Hall, screaming and looking as if the garlic hadn't been enough to keep away whatever was terrifying him.

He collapsed against the table next to Professor Dumbledore, gasped, "Troll in the dungeons!" and fainted. Screams erupted around the Hall, causing the bats to panic and flutter wildly all over the place.

"Prefects, lead your houses back to their dormitories immediately!"

"The troll's in the dungeon!" shouted several voices from the Slytherin table.

"Quiet."

Somehow Snape's voice was perfectly audible above the tumult.

"Wait here."

The teachers were being led to the dungeons by Professor Dumbledore. Snape caught Professor Sprout's sleeve. She looked flustered, but after a few words had been exchanged, she called out to the Hufflepuff students to go to their dormitories and leave their common room to the Slytherins.

"The _Hufflepuff _common room?" Malfoy pulled up his nose.

"I heard it's quite comfortable," said Pucey.

"Slytherins, follow the Hufflepuffs!"

They marched through a door on the right of the marble staircase and down a bright corridor decorated with pictures of food that Crabbe and Goyle examined with interest. Apparently, a door was hidden in the wall, as the Slytherins suddenly found themselves in a low ceilinged room in which a bright fire was lit in a wide fireplace. The Hufflepuff room was filled with comfortable armchairs and sofas. Malfoy immediately enthroned himself in the one he liked best, while the rest of the students fought over the others. Nott lay down on the deep plush carpet in front of the fireplace and closed his eyes. He looked so cosy Harry joined him.

.

Harry felt well-rested when he awoke on the following morning, to Malfoy's complaints about having slept in an armchair.

"The carpet was very comfortable. You should have joined us," said Harry. He winked at Nott, who actually smiled back.

"Slytherins!"

Professor Sprout had appeared in the doorway.

"Does she sleep with that stupid hat on?" whispered Pansy.

"I want you out of here as fast as possible, so that the Hufflepuffs can come out without creating a traffic jam."

"What happened?" asked Pucey. "Did you catch the troll?"

"Oh yes, we did, thank goodness. Everything is all right. You can go and have breakfast safely."

"How could a troll get in?" asked Harry, as they made their way to the Dining Hall.

"It couldn't," said Nott.

"But it did," said Zabini.

"Peeves must have let it in," said Malfoy. "I'm surprised he got it into the dungeons, though. The whole school hates us, that's what."

Professor Snape was limping badly.

"Did the troll attack you, sir?" asked Heather Harper.

"Go and sit down," grunted Snape.

The whole Slytherin table was whispering about Snape's leg.

"None of the other teachers were hurt."

"They sent Professor Snape to do the dirty work."

"Because they hate Slytherin."

"Why didn't they send that oaf, Hagrid?"

The following days, Snape taught his classes as usual, and yelled at Harry, Neville and Hermione as usual, but he was hardly seen between classes and meals. When they did catch sight of him, he was always either resting or dragging his leg.

"He won't say how he was hurt," remarked Zabini.

"He's modest," said Malfoy proudly. "I bet he took on the troll single-handed."

ooo

"We are lucky Quirrell is stupid," remarked Dumbledore.

"Lucky? Albus, this is ridiculous! One of our best students nearly gets killed, Severus is badly injured, and that- that _man _just walks away! Imagine if Filch hadn't heard Miss Granger screaming in that bathroom...!"

Minerva McGonagall shuddered.

"... While we were chasing around in the dungeons!"

"My dear Minerva, I had to send you down to the dungeons. The last thing we need is to let Quirrell know we suspect him. He wanted to get to the third floor corridor, we had to get out of his way."

"You forget this is a school."

"Oh no, Minerva, I never forget."

"How far do we have to let him go? How many more trolls do we need wandering around the castle before we can have him arrested?"

"We cannot arrest him without proof, Minerva."

"Severus, you saw him trying to get past that beast of Hagrid's..."

"It's my word against his. The Ministry has no reason to believe the word of an ex-Death Eater over Quirrell's."

Severus was pale. He hadn't even attempted to tease Minerva. This could only mean two things: either he was in a lot of pain, or the situation was serious. Or both.

"Have you seen Poppy?"

"Of course I have seen Poppy!"

"You should go and rest."

Severus waved off an invisible fly.

"I want to keep the students safe," said Minerva.

At last, Severus weakly rose to the bait.

"So what was one of your students doing in that bathroom? Wasn't she missed?"

"I'll speak to Percy Weasley... Oh, Severus, you're right, it's my fault!"

"Next time that idiot brings a troll in..."

"I certainly hope there won't be a next time. Did Quirrell get hurt?"

"Why would he?"

Minerva pinched her lips.

"Minerva is right, you must rest, Severus. Your health is important."

Severus muttered something unintelligible.

"Quirrell knows you have seen him, but he does not know we believe your story. That's why we are lucky he is stupid. You and I are going to be nice to him, Minerva, and the rest of the staff don't need to know anything."

"I'll be glad when this year is over," muttered Minerva.

"We still have seven month to go," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to take a bet on how long it will take to catch Quirrell?"

"No!" answered both teachers together.

Dumbledore chuckled.

As Severus hobbled off, refusing Minerva's arm, Dumbledore sighed.

Not only had no student attempted any act of reckless bravery to save Miss Granger, no one had even noticed her absence in the Gryffindor common-room. Gryffindor was not what it used to be.

ooo

Because no one had actually seen the troll, except, apparently, Professor Snape, it didn't make much of an impression on the Slytherins. Malfoy's interpretation of the event was that the troll had been let out in the dungeons because everyone hated Slytherin, and, because everyone hated Slytherin, Draco Malfoy had had to spend the night in an armchair, and Draco Malfoy's father would hear about this. Harry never heard what Mr Malfoy had to say about this, perhaps because Draco lost interest, as the Quidditch season was beginning.

The first match was to oppose Slytherin and Gryffindor.

"That's an easy one," boasted Marcus Flint, who was Quidditch Captain. "The Gryffs were _flattened _last year. Eighty to ten. You should have seen McGonagall's face."

"See," gloated Malfoy, "our team's the best and we'll both be on it next year."

Ron and his friends were scowling at the Slytherins more than ever. Hermione walked around with her nose in a book called 'Quidditch Through the Ages', until it got confiscated by Professor Snape, to Malfoy's glee, the day before the match.

"She can't even stay on a broom. The book's wasted on her. You should read it. You need to brush up your knowledge."

"I can't. Snape's got it."

"Let's go and get it then. Come on."

Professor Snape wasn't in his office, so Malfoy dragged Harry to the staff room. He knocked on the door and, getting no answer, walked in. Harry hesitated on the threshold. He was glad he had, a few seconds later, as he caught sight of Snape and Filch sitting in there. Filch was holding out bandages for Professor Snape's leg, which looked awful.

"Blasted thing. How are you supposed to keep eyes on all three heads at once?"

"Three heads?" repeated Malfoy.

Snape rapidly dropped his robe over his mangled leg and scowled in exasperation.

"Did I invite you in, Draco?"

"No, sir. But I thought there was no one there."

"Students do not go barging into the staff room when there is no one there, you aggravating child!"

"Sorry, sir. I wanted 'Quidditch Through the Ages' for Potter."

"Draco Malfoy, it is not your business to go running around the castle to get books for Potter. He can take books out of the library himself like a civilised student."

"Yes sir, but..."

"Get out."

Draco stumped out of the staff room.

"Snape's cross with me because of you again."

"I didn't ask you to get that book!" protested Harry. "Snape's right. I can get it out of the library myself."

"It's the last time I'm doing anything for you, Potter. You simply don't appreciate my efforts."

"Oh, I do. I really do. But you needn't get yourself into trouble because of me."

Malfoy was mollified.

"I came at a bad time," he concluded generously. "Professor Snape was attacked by a three-headed troll, he must have been in a lot of pain."

Professor Snape's prestige rose in the Slytherin common-room that evening, even though Nott insisted there was no such thing as a three-headed troll. But, as Zabini pointed out, Nott had also claimed a troll couldn't get into the school.

ooo

The following morning, the whole school gathered in the high stands around the Quidditch stadium. The Slytherins were all wearing their green and silver scarves and most of them were peering eagerly through binoculars, even though there was nothing to see yet.

"Look at that ridiculous thing the Gryffs put up, that keeps changing colours," commented Malfoy. "And talking about colours, don't the Weasleys look dreadful in red and gold?"

Harry peered as well as he could, without binoculars.

"Oh, here's Professor Snape. He's still limping. And there's McGonagall. She looks like she was hit by a Tarantallegra."

"What's a Talanta-... thing?"

"Tarantallegra. It's a curse that makes people act like McGonagall at a Quidditch match... Ravenclaw and Hufllepuff are supporting Gryffindor. Father told me they always do. But we'll win anyway. Oh, here are the teams. Look at the Weasley Beaters. Told you they look dreadful. The Gryfffs have_ girls_ on their team, imagine. That Katie Bell, the tiny one, she's only a second year!"

"It's so undignified for girls to be on the team," sniffed Daphne behind her binoculars. Tracey approved loudly, but Pansy looked wistful. As for Millicent, Harry privately thought she looked as if she didn't know what the word 'dignified' meant.

Madam Hooch whistled. The match was beginning.

Harry was sitting on the edge of his seat, promising himself to buy a pair of binoculars next time he went to Diagon Alley. But when would that be?

"And the Quaffle is taken by Angelina Johnson..."

"That's Jordan commenting. He's a Gryff."

Angelina Johnson was the first to score. Those girls were not bad at all.

"Slytherin is in possession. Wait a moment. Was that the Snitch?"

Crabbe let out a few swear words worthy of Uncle Vernon on his bad days: Pucey had dropped the Quaffle. But none of the chasers moved. All eyes were on the Seekers, who had both shot after the Snitch.

Cox, the Gryffindor Seeker, was smaller and lighter than Slytherin Higgs.

"Stupid rules! If I was Seeker, we would have won already," grumbled Malfoy. "... Oh, good one!"

Flint had bumped into Cox so violently the Gryffindor Seeker had nearly fallen off his broom.

"Foul!" roared the Gryffindors.

"Are you allowed to do that?' asked Harry.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"You ask the wrong questions," said Nott quietly.

"Why?"

"Wrong question," said Zabini.

"Shut up!' grunted Crabbe.

Madam Hooch awarded a penalty to Gryffindor, but this, apparently, wasn't enough for Jordan.

"So - after this obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"

"Jordan!"

"McGonagall's fair," remarked Harry.

"Fair? McGonagall?" snorted a boy sitting behind him. "She had no tears left when we won last year. She's pretending. That's what Gryffindors do."

"Why?"

"Wrong question."

Aunt Petunia's rule had been, "don't ask questions". In Slytherin, the rule became "ask the right questions". But how did one know the right questions from the wrong ones?

Harry decided to watch the rest of the match in silence, only cheering dutifully when Slytherin scored, and a bit louder when Higgs caught the Snitch, winning the match for Slytherin.

"Look at McGonagall," said Malfoy.

Even without binoculars, it was clear that the Head of Gryffindor was bitterly disappointed. Her arms had dropped to her sides and she wasn't holding her head up as proudly as usual.

"I wish I could hear what Snape's saying to her," giggled Pansy. "Honestly, their Seeker was so bad you'd think he'd been jinxed."


	6. Chapter 6

Green and Silver

This story takes place in JK Rowling's world and the characters are hers (except for the man with the moustache and Hicky - can anyone guess what Hicky is short for?).

ooo

6.

Malfoy Manor

Winter had come in earnest. Hogwarts was covered in snow. It was very cold inside the castle, and the dungeons were the coldest. The first year Slytherins were very grateful when the prefects taught them warming charms.

And winter meant Christmas.

"I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at school."Malfoy's voice echoed in the dungeon classroom. "Of course, some people have reasons not to want to go home."

"Shut up," hissed Zabini.

"I mean people who live in a sty."

Malfoy looked over at Ron, in case he hadn't made himself clear enough. Harry peered at him too, from behind the cauldron fumes. Ron did look quite put out. Harry was surprised. He would have thought Mrs Weasley would eagerly await her children's Christmas visit. He suddenly felt sorry for Ron.

When class was over, the Gryffindors were the first to rush up the stairs leading out of the dungeons. But their way was blocked by an enormous fir tree.

"Your friend," said Malfoy in a tone that immediately identified the carrier of the tree.

"Oh hi, Hagrid."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" continued Malfoy. "Weasley, if you help him, you might earn some extra money. Then you could afford to spend Christmas in a decent place."

"Hogwarts is a decent place," began Hagrid, but Ron had pounced on Malfoy before Hermione could stop him.

But Snape could.

"Weasley!"

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," intervened Hagrid.

"Fighting is against Hogwarts rules. Five points from Gryffindor."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle pushed past the tree, scattering needles all over the place.

"Come an' see the Great Hall, Harry," said Hagrid.

"Who cares about the Great Hall?" said Malfoy. "Our manor looks a hundred times better."

"Oh yeah? I bet it's no fun at all to spend Christmas there, no matter what it looks like."

"It depends what you call fun," humphed Malfoy.

"Move along, Potter," grumbled Snape, as Harry stood there, staring at Hagrid and Malfoy.

"I'm coming, Hagrid," he decided.

"You're such an idiot, Potter," muttered Malfoy.

"How can yeh stand him?" growled Hagrid. "Anyway, look, inn'it a treat?"

It was a treat. Harry wondered how Malfoy Manor could possibly look better. Then he remembered he was about to find out.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?"

"Just one," muttered Harry, gazing at Professor Flitwick who was decorating the trees with golden bubbles.

"I wish you weren't going ter him, it's a waste of Christmas," said Hagrid.

"Oh? You know?"

That was a relief. Harry had been dreading to tell Hagrid where he would be spending the holidays.

"Of course. Professor Dumbledore told me."

"He knows?"

"Professor Dumbledore knows everything. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Professor Snape said I should go."

"Yeah, well, no offence to Professor Snape, but he doesn't understand fun."

Harry smiled. Hagrid had a point.

"Tell yeh what, Malfoy doesn' either. Dunno what Professor Snape's thinkin' about."

Hagrid shook his shaggy head. Harry noticed Professor McGonagall was giving him her worried look again.

"We're going to fly. They have good brooms," he said.

Professor McGonagall gave him a sad smile, and Professor Flitwick a smile that was warmer and less sad.

"Enjoy yourselves, boys," he squeaked.

"Thanks. I'll write to you, Hagrid."

"You'd better."

ooo

On the following morning, they boarded coaches that seemed to be pulled by invisible horses to the Hogsmeade railway station.

"All the best to your parents," Professor Snape said to Malfoy.

.

Malfoy spent most of the train trip boasting about the decorations at his parents' manor and the lavish parties they would be attending. No one in the compartment seemed very impressed. It was clear that to Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Pansy, none of this was new, and that the boasting was intended for Harry's benefit.

"You'll be coming to us, won't you, Draco?" simpered Pansy at least a hundred times.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at least as often.

"We're nearly there, let's go and dress up as Muggles!" she exclaimed at last, as everything had gone dark out of the window.

"I can't imagine why you enjoy it so much," groaned Malfoy, pulling stylish clothes out of his trunk.

Harry felt terribly self-conscious. He wished he had bought himself some new Muggle outfits with his Gringotts money. Now he was going to have to wear Dudley's baggy hand-me-downs.

Draco emerged from the bathroom dressed as a royal Muggle, while Zabini looked like a mini rock star. Even Crabbe and Goyle looked respectable.

"Looks funny, doesn't it?" shrugged Malfoy. "At least we can wear robes at home."

Harry was very grateful for that.

"Yuk," said Malfoy, as Harry appeared in Dudley's over-sized jeans and sweatshirt.

"Your Muggles have no sense of fashion," sniffed Zabini.

Harry wished Aunt Petunia could hear him.

Platform 9 and 3/4 was full of flushed, happy parents. Harry caught a glimpse of Neville's formidable grandmother, and of Hermione being greeted by a shy-looking couple.

"Muggles can get on the platform?" he asked.

Malfoy stuck up his nose.

Zabini scowled as his mother, a beautiful tall woman, pranced over to him with a smallish man in tow, who didn't look at all as if he were his father.

"Blaise has a new stepfather," commented Pansy.

Malfoy stuck up his nose a little higher.

"Draco!"

Mr and Mrs Malfoy both had pale blond hair like their son's, and an air of elegant self-complacency.

Remembering Professor Snape's words, and Hagrid's, Harry was tempted to get back on the train. but was it going to Hogsmeade? Did the Hogwarts Express run all the time?

While Mrs Malfoy hugged her son, Mr Malfoy examined Harry.

"Harry Potter?" he said.

Unceremoniously, he pushed Harry's hair out of the way and peered at his scar with a kind of awe.

"Remarkable," he murmured.

"Harry Potter?" repeated Mrs Malfoy who had let go of her son. "Welcome."

"Come, boys."

Harry noticed a man with a curly moustache was pushing their trunks on a trolley. Harry's was at the bottom.

He followed the Malfoys across the barrier and back into Muggle King's Cross. The Muggle world still exists, he found himself thinking. A world that doesn't know magic.

The Malfoys hurried through the station, throwing contemptuous glances around them.

Outside, a gorgeous black car that could belong to the Prime Minister was waiting. Muggles stared at them, obviously believing they were celebrities, and trying to identify them. A few well-known actors' names were advanced.

The man with the moustache opened the door and all four sat comfortably on the back seat.

"So, Draco," said Mr Malfoy, "Professor Snape is happy with your Potions results, but I cannot say the same of the other teachers."

"They hate Slytherin," said Draco in a whiny voice that Harry had never heard, " and they all have favourites, that Granger girl..."

"Granger," repeated Mr Malfoy, looking upwards as if he were trying to remember something. "There is a Granger girl?"

"She's a Mudblood."

"How inconceivable that teachers at Hogwarts should favour Mudbloods," said Mrs Malfoy, wrinkling her nose. "Even Slughorn had a few in his club, do you remember, dear?"

She glanced at Harry as she said that, though Harry had no idea who Slughorn was.

Wedged between Mr Malfoy and his son, Harry tried to make himself as small as possible. Mr and Mrs Malfoy stared at him as much as the students had on his first day of school. And the awe with which Mr Malfoy's eyes kept coming back to his scar made him sorry he had accepted the Malfoys' invitation. He shuddered.

"Are you cold, my dear? Merlin, the clothes this child is wearing!"

Mrs Malfoy wrinkled her nose again. She seemed to do that a lot.

"Don't you have any decent clothes?"

Harry felt himself blush.

"He's been living with Muggles, Mother."

"I would have thought even Muggles would know how to dress a child. They do have adequately warm clothes, from what I have seen. Do you have warm robes, at least?"

"Oh, er, yes Mrs Malfoy."

She allowed herself a half-smile.

"You'll change when we get home."

"And how are your school results, boy?" asked Mr Malfoy.

"Worse than mine," said Draco gleefully.

"Really?"

Mr Malfoy gave Harry a look that froze his insides.

Draco, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Soon they turned into a wide driveway and passed through a pair of large iron gates towards the biggest house Harry had ever seen.

"Snow!" said Draco. "There's more at Hogwarts, but this isn't bad."

It was the first time Harry heard him say something was better at Hogwarts.

"Can we have a snowball fight, Mother?"

"Not now. It's dark and you have to settle in. Harry, you must change out of these dreadful things and make yourself comfortable."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She gave him another half-smile.

"Are you tired, are you hungry?"

"Not yet!' said Draco.

The man with the moustache stopped the car and opened the door for his passengers. Mr Malfoy stepped out. Draco pushed Harry after him. Mr Malfoy frowned , as Harry tumbled to the ground.

"Where's Harry sleeping?"

"In the room next to yours."

"Oh, good!"

"Show him his room, Draco."

Harry followed, wondering why those words had sounded so friendly. Then he realised Malfoy... Draco had used his first name for the first time. And so had Mrs Malfoy before him.

He hardly had time to reflect on this, however, as a group of small creatures with large ears and long noses had run to greet the boys in voices that were squeakier than Professor Flitwick's

"Welcome home, Master Draco, welcome to Malfoy Manor, master Harry Potter!"

Harry gaped.

"Never seen house-elves? It's about time you left the Muggle world. Come on!"

Draco sprinted up the marble staircase that was not as large as the one at Hogwarts, but still very impressive for a private home. Harry followed as fast as he could, afraid of getting lost if he didn't keep up. They ran up an ornate corridor full of heavy looking portraits who all stared at Harry, until Draco pushed a door.

"That's your room."

It was larger than the Hogwarts dormitory. A four poster bed with emerald green curtains, bigger then the one they had at school, occupied the centre of the room. The carpet was soft and inviting, as in the Hufflepuff common-room. The dark wardrobe was the size of a small cabinet. The idea of hanging Dudley's clothes in there seemed ludicrous.

"Wow."

Draco laughed.

"Not like school. And here's your bathroom."

A bathroom to himself! The bath was the biggest Harry had ever seen.

"I could drown in there."

"Can't you swim, Potter?"

"Everything's huge."

"Poor little Potter! Do the Muggles live in a dolls' house?"

Harry grinned.

"Something like that."

"I'm next door, look."

Bed, walls and window, everything was green and silver.

"What would have happened if you weren't sorted in Slytherin?" asked Harry, trying to imagine the room in a different colour.

"Stop insulting me, Potter. Come and have a look at my team."

The walls were covered in pictures of Quidditch players, swishing on their brooms. Harry watched them, fascinated, while Draco rattled off their names.

Suddenly Harry jumped: Draco had just slapped him on the shoulder.

"Go and get changed to make Mother happy. I wish she'd let us have a go on the brooms, but she'll say it's dark."

Harry's trunk had been brought in and his clothes were hanging in the wardrobe. Harry changed as fast as he could.

They raced down the stairs. Draco asked very politely if they could play in the park and was told it was dark outside. He pulled a face.

"It's dinner time," said Mrs Malfoy, looking critically at Harry. "Can't anything be done about your hair?"

"Nothing, Mother," said Draco cheerfully.

"It's Potter hair," remarked Mr Malfoy in a disapproving tone.

Again Harry felt his insides freeze. Had Mr Malfoy known his father? And how?

The table was much too big for four people, in Harry's opinion. Mr and Mrs Malfoy sat on either end and the boys were sternly told to sit opposite each other. When they were settled, dishes Harry had never seen appeared on the table.

"I see the Muggles haven't taught you table manners," said Mrs Malfoy.

Draco smirked.

"There is nothing to be expected from Muggles," said Mr Malfoy. "This boy is living proof."

For some reason, the word "living" made Harry shudder.

"You should see Weasley at the table!" giggled Draco.

"That boy grew up in a pigsty," said his father.

Harry opened wide eyes. So this was where Draco had got his information. Mr Malfoy seemed to know a lot about everybody.

Dessert was a flower-shaped ice-cream with a cherry on top. It had a taste Harry didn't recognise. Harry was glad the meal was ending. He was tired of trying to copy the Malfoy way of eating and not having the slightest idea what he was putting in his mouth. Again he wished he had stayed at Hogwarts. None of the Slytherin first years were staying at school for the holidays, but Harry didn't mind.

"Time for bed, boys."

"But it's only eight o'clock."

"It will be much later once you have had your baths and fooled around like wild animals. Tomorrow we are visiting the Parkinsons."

"What! I've had to put up with Pansy every day for the last term. It's worse than having a sister."

"Draco!"

"Sorry, Father."

They climbed upstairs more slowly than they had earlier, Draco having been told by his father to "act like a Malfoy".

But as soon as they reached their rooms, Draco put on a rebellious face and suggested a pillow fight.

"Would your parents approve?"

"Of course not, but what would life be like if we only did what my parents approved?"

He marched into Harry's room, tore the plump pillow off the bed and threw it in Harry's face. A wild fight followed, during which Draco nervously hushed Harry each time he bumped himself or cried out. It ended when Harry's pillow exploded, spreading multicoloured feathers all over the landing.

Harry was afraid Mr Malfoy would come and punish them, but Draco said calmly,

"Dobby."

"Excuse me?" said Harry.

There was a loud crack and one of the house-elves appeared, bowing.

"Oh, master Draco, you's been naughty again!"

The house-elf snapped his fingers and the feathers rose as fireworks and whirled back into the pillowcase.

"That was beautiful," murmured Harry.

"Thank you, master Harry Potter!" squeaked the elf in delight.

"Shall I do it again?" giggled Draco.

"Master Draco, you is being naughty. Master Malfoy will be cross."

"All right, only joking."

"Master Draco, you should get into your bath. Dobby will prepare it."

"A'right. See you, Harry."

Another house-elf came out of Harry's bathroom.

"Master Harry Potter's bath is ready."

"Oh, thank you."

"Not at all. House-elves live to serve the house of Malfoy and their guests. Is master Harry Potter needing something else?"

"Er, no thanks."

"If master Harry Potter is needing something else, master Harry Potter should call Hicky or Dobby."

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, master Harry Potter."

"Good-"

Crack. Hicky had disappeared.

The bath was so warm and smelled so good - though Harry couldn't identify the smell - Harry was soon ready to fall asleep.

He was lying on his bed in Dudley's pyjamas when the door opened.

"Ready for another pillow-fight, Potter?"

"Aren't you ever tired, er, Draco?"

"Sometimes."

Draco grinned and sat next to him on his bed.

"How d'you like it here?"

"Er, beautiful house. The house-elves are nice."

Draco burst out laughing.

"The house-elves are nice! You are so funny. At least, I'll have some entertainment for the holidays."

Then he stopped laughing.

"That's what it means to be a Malfoy," he said, imitating his father's tone. "You have all this. You don't live in a sty. But you have to behave."

"I hope I can do it."

Draco shrugged.

"You're not a Malfoy."

"I don't know anything about the Potters. Except that their hair was untidy."

Draco looked as if he were going to say something, but he changed his mind and shrugged again.

"We'll have fun anyway. We'll see the others at the parties."

"That's good," yawned Harry.

Draco yawned too.

"A'right, then. No pillow-fight. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Draco."


	7. Chapter 7

Green and Silver

These are JK Rowling's world and characters, with just one change.

ooo

7.

Christmas Holidays

The house-elf named Dobby woke Harry the following morning to tell him breakfast would be served at 8.30. The thought of breakfast was enough to cut Harry's appetite. If breakfast was going to be like dinner, it would not be an enjoyable experience.

Dudely's clothes had been laundered and were hanging in a corner of the vast wardrobe.

Draco greeted Harry with,

"We must go flying this morning. In the afternoon, Mother is taking us shopping for presents. For you, it won't be hard, You need everything."

Not knowing what to say, Harry followed Draco quietly downstairs.

At breakfast, he tried to imitate Draco in everything, not beginning to eat until Draco did.

Draco found it very funny to make faces at Harry when his parents weren't watching.

"What is so amusing, Mr Potter?" snapped Mr Malfoy, while Draco smiled angelically.

"Er, nothing, sir."

Mr Malfoy looked so irritated Harry knew he had to keep a straight face from now on, no matter what Draco did. He found that biting his tongue helped.

Happily, breakfast did not last so long as dinner had, and it wasn't dark outside any more, so the boys got permission to play in the park.

As soon as Harry stepped outside, a snowball hit his forehead.

"That'll hide your scar!"

"It's your whole face that needs to be hidden!"

Brooms were forgotten. The two boys chased each other around the park in a most un-Malfoy manner, until Mrs Malfoy called them in for lunch.

Harry made a quick mental calculation: three meals a day for two weeks, that was... really a lot.

Mrs Malfoy tut-tutted as they walked in, flushed and panting.

"Wash your face before your father sees you, Draco."

To Harry's surprise, Draco threw his arms around his mother's waist and hugged her. This time her smile was genuine.

"Go, foolish child!"

On the way up to change, Draco winked at Harry.

"No one can resist me."

A few steps higher, he said,

"Except Father."

At the top of the stairs, he added,

"And Professor Snape."

.

"You haven't been flying," commented Mr Malfoy coldly, during lunch. "I was waiting to see how Mr Potter fares on a broom."

"He's good," said Draco.

"Please swallow your food before you speak. You did not grow up in a sty."

"No, Father. Yes, Father."

"You will have to fly tomorrow. Today we are busy," said Mrs Malfoy.

They ate as fast as they could without gulping and Harry kept a straight face till the end. It wasn't difficult, as Mr Malfoy was not in a happy mood.

Hagrid was right: Malfoy Manor was no fun.

Harry had expected to find the car and the man with the moustache waiting for them outside. Instead, the Malfoys gathered next to the fireplace in the dining room. Mr Malfoy picked a silver box on the mantelpiece and offered it to Mrs Malfoy, who took a pinch of glittering powder and threw it in the fire. The flames turned green and rose frighteningly. To Harry's bewilderment, Mrs Malfoy stepped into the fire, said, "Diagon Alley", and disappeared.

"Shut your mouth, boy, you are not a codfish," said Mr Malfoy. "I gather from the stupid expression on your face you have never travelled by Floo."

"Flu?" repeated Harry.

"Show him, Draco."

Draco smirked, and launched into a string of recommendations.

"You must speak clearly, don't fidget, keep you elbows tucked in and your eyes shut and get out only when you see us."

"How can I see you if I've got my eyes shut?"

Mr Malfoy tut-tutted impatiently.

"You open them when it stops," said Draco in the condescending tone he used at school, when explaining magic principles to Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to ask, "when what stops?", but, seeing Mr Malfoy's glare, shut it again quickly.

Draco disappeared into the fire, leaving Harry alone with Mr Malfoy.

"It is important to speak very clearly," said Mr Malfoy. "Say 'Diagon Alley'".

"D-Diagon Alley."

"Don't stutter or we'll have to send people looking for you all over wizarding Britain. Say it again."

"Diagon Alley."

"Diagon. Alley. In two words. Not 'Diagonally.'"

"Yes, sir. Diagon. Alley."

"Again. I want to hear each letter clearly."

"D-i-a-g-o-n. A-l-l-ey."

A dozen repetitions later, Mr Malfoy was finally satisfied. He threw a pinch of powder into the flames.

"Get in."

Harry had never imagined he would walk happily into a blazing fire.

It felt like a warm breeze.

Under Mr Malfoy's steely glare, Harry obediently breathed in through his nose and pronounced the words.

"D-i-a-g-o-n. A-l-l-e-y."

The flames began to spin around him. Harry tried to remember Draco's instructions, but could only remember his father's.

The next thing he knew, he had fallen on his face, his glasses were shattered and Draco was laughing his head off.

"We'll have to teach you to land," sniffed Mrs Malfoy. "At least, you have arrived at the right place. Draco got out at Borgen and Burkes on his first try. Reparo."

The shattered glasses became whole again and Harry saw he was at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the landlord, was brushing soot out of Harry's hair and clothes.

Mr Malfoy stepped out of the fire as graciously as if he had simply taken a lift.

Harry was the only one covered in soot.

They walked out of the Leaky Cauldron among the curious glances of the customers. No one came over to shake hands with Harry this time. Harry had the feeling they were afraid of the Malfoys.

In Diagon Alley, Mrs Malfoy pushed Harry into Madam Malkin's shop.

"That's where we met," said Draco. "I thought you had funny clothes, at the time."

"Mmm," said Harry, remembering how ignorant he had been.

To Harry's surprise, Madam Malkin made Muggle clothes, as well as wizard robes.

"This is Harry Potter," said Mrs Malfoy. "He needs every kind of decent Muggle clothes, including underthings and pyjamas."

Oblivious to Hary's utter embarrassment, Madam Malkin smiled and began to take Harry's mensurations again.

"You have put on a bit of weight, dear, that's good," she remarked.

"I am off to Ollivanders," said Mrs Malfoy. "You boys can do your Christmas shopping and join me there."

"Mother has a thing for wands," said Draco, after she left. "She can sit and look at them and listen to the old man's stories for hours. It used to drive me mad when I was little."

"What do I get your parents for Christmas?"

"Oh, they don't need anything. Chocolates will do. I'll show you which ones."

"Perhaps your mother would like a wand."

"You don't need more than one. She just likes looking and listening to Ollivander."

After the chocolate purchase, Draco strutted off by himself to get Harry "everything he hadn't got". Harry found himself wandering alone, looking for a present for Draco. If Draco found it easy to to get a present for Harry because he "needed everything", Harry found it hard to decide what to get for Draco who _had_ everything.

It was strange walking around Diagon Alley alone. Harry was automatically drawn to Quality Quidditch supplies. He stopped to stare at the Nimbus 2000 in the window. Now he could appreciate its qualities. He was just thinking this might be a good place to buy a present for Draco, when someone called his name.

"Young Harry Potter!"

Were people going to start acting as they had at his first visit ?

He turned around, resigned.

Neville was standing there with his grandmother

"Well, Neville, say hello to your friend."

"Hello," mumbled Neville, not mentioning the fact that they were not actually friends.

"I see you are interested in brooms. Neville says you are a good flier."

Neville loked embarrassed.

"Better than he is, no doubt. Well, you had a talented father. Not that I knew him personally. It would be interesting if you made the Slytherin team, interesting indeed."

"Er, why?" stammered Harry.

Neville's grandmother smiled incredulously.

"You surely know your father was on the Gryffindor team. No? He was very good. I don't know what he would think of your Sorting, but truth be said, it is very fitting that the boy who defeated You-Know-Who should be in Slytherin."

She peered at him.

"You might redeem Slytherin, you know, counterbalance young Malfoy's influence. It certainly wouldn't hurt. The others don't have what it takes, though Miss Parkinson has brains, I have been told."

Neville looked as flabbergasted as Harry felt.

"All right then, very nice to have met you, Mr Potter. Trot along, Neville. We still haven't got anything for your mother."

She turned around and walked off briskly, Neville trailing behind her.

Harry blinked and stared unseeingly for a few minutes. Redeem Slytherin? Counterbalance Malfoy's influence? This Boy Who Lived thing was going a bit far.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked out of the shop with a pair of Omnioculars for himself and a miniature flying Nimbus 2000 for Draco.

The tone Draco had used to tell Harry he was going to get "everything he hadn't got" made it seem as if his shopping might take a long time. Harry decided to walk around a bit. Diagon Alley was such a fascinating place to explore, especially alone.

He was gazing at the gold cauldron Hagrid hadn't let him buy at his first visit when a familiar figure strolled over, his hands in the pockets of his cloak. It was Blaise Zabini, also alone, with no mother or stepfather in sight.

"Christmas shopping?" said Harry.

Zabini smirked.

"What's it like at the Malfoys?"

"All right," said Harry, non-committally.

"The problem with the Malfoys is that they think too highly of themselves. It's like that cauldron. It looks nice, but you can't brew just anything in a gold cauldron. It melts and the potion goes bad."

"Really? It's a waste of money, then."

"Oh no. It's a question of what kind of potion you want to make."

Harry frowned, not quite gettting what the cauldron had to do with the Malfoys.

"You're better off there than with the Muggles, though. What's it like at the Muggles?"

"Awful."

"Not much to expect from Muggles."

"It seems not."

"Where are the Malfoys?"

"Draco has gone Christmas shopping. Mrs Malfoy has gone to Ollivanders. I don't know where Mr Malfoy is."

"Want to come to Knockturn Alley?"

"What's that?"

"An interesting place. Worth the visit."

Zabini led Harry down a dingy side-street. As they walked on, a heavy silence replaced Diagon Alley's cheerful clatter. the bright colours were replaced everywhere by shades of brownish grey. Even the smell was different. Something there reminded Harry of Malfoy Manor, but he couldn't think what.

Wondering why Zabini found the place interesting, Harry peered through the shop windows. Shrunken heads, poisonous candles, snakes and huge spiders seemed to be popular items here.

"The apothecary has stuff you can't find in Diagon Alley," said Zabini.

"Like what.?"

"All sorts of poisons, human body parts."

Harry felt he was going to be sick.

They had reached the largest shop in the street. Zabini stopped.

"I've found Malfoy Senior," he remarked.

Mr Malfoy was standing at the counter, in conversation with a stooping man whose hair hung limp, like Professor Snape's. Harry moved backwards.

"Is it all right to be here?"

"Wrong question," said Zabini.

Harry was getting annoyed.

"Listen, I don't like this place. I'm going back to Diagon Alley."

He must have spoken loudly, for Mr Malfoy turned and looked straight at him. He said something to the proprietor of the shop and walked out.

"Well, well, well, Mr Potter. And you are the Zabini boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see your mother lets you wander alone in Knockturn Alley..."

"Mother has a new husband,' said Zabini. He said that as Aunt Petunia would have said, "Mrs Figg has a new cat".

"So I noticed. This explains why she is too busy to watch over her son."

Zabini shrugged.

"He won't last long."

"No doubt he'll be dead by the summer," snapped Mr Malfoy. "Where is Draco?"

"He... he went Christmas shopping," stammered Harry.

The notion of Christmas shopping seemed completely foreign in Knockturn Alley.

"I hope you had the sense to buy a self-repairing pillow," said Mr Malfoy in a bored voice.

Both boys opened wide eyes.

"Come with me."

Neither boy dared disobey.

Soon they were back in Diagon Alley, to Harry's relief. Mr Malfoy pushed Harry into a shop that seemed to sell only pillows in all sizes, colours and shapes.

"You don't need any," he told Zabini who walked away, his hands in his pockets, after a wistful glance at the pillows.

Harry chose a ball-shaped self-repairing pillow that bounced back at the sender. It looked a lot of fun. Mr Malfoy, however, was looking at his watch.

"What colour?" asked the shop-keeper.

"Oh, green and silver."

No other colour would have been possible in Draco's room.

"Do you know the Zabini boy well?" asked Mr Malfoy.

"Well, he's in our year..."

Draco appeared, loaded with boxes. With a slight movement of his wand, Mr Malfoy shrank all the purchases.

"You let your friend wander alone in Knockturn Alley," said Mr Malfoy coldly.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" said Draco.

"I was with Zabini."

"You could have called me. It's not fair to go and have fun when I'm buying you presents."

Harry thought it hadn't been that fun, but he didn't dare say so in front of Mr Malfoy.

Draco was rather sulky on the way home and Mrs Malfoy sniffed disapprovingly at the mention of Zabini.

Harry was given instructions to improve his landing technique on his return through the Floo. He took off his glasses to keep them safe.

After a tedious lunch (another thirty-five more meals to come, according to Harry's calculations), the boys went upstairs to change again. The Malfoys semmed to change a lot. There were clothes for travelling, clothes for meals, clothes for playing in the park, clothes for shopping, and now clothes to visit the Parkinsons. Harry was grateful for Draco's guidance.

"Is Zabini's stepfather ill?" asked Harry, as Draco spread a set of new robes on Harry's bed.

"Huh? Well, if he isn't now, he soon will be."

"Why?- And don't say 'wrong question'!"

Draco smirked.

"Zabini's stepfathers always die."

"Why?" insisted Harry.

"I am not sure. People say she kills them."

"What? Who?"

"Madam Zabini. Come on, get dressed and shut your mouth. You look like Goyle when you make that face."

.

"It's going to be so boring, I'm glad you're coming," said Draco as they trudged down the stairs. "My parents want me to marry Pansy, I think."

"Marry? But you're too young."

"When I am older, dunderhead," said Draco, imitating Professor Snape.

They used the Floo again to get to the Parkinsons. On arrival, Harry tottered and swayed, but managed to stop himself from falling at Pansy's feet. She giggled, delighted.

"You have soot on your nose."

Pansy was wearing a frilly pink robe. It made her look different.

"Young Harry Potter!" exclaimed Pansy's father jovially. "Welcome, welcome. Make yourself at home young man."

Making himself at home was not a concept familiar to Harry.

"Have fun, dear boy, have fun!" said Mrs Parkinson before rushing off to harass a group of house-elves.

How did one have fun around here?

Pansy was leading a group of girls in giggly gossip. Harry recognised Daphne Greengrass and the Patil twins who were in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

"Come on," said Draco, putting a protective hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry shrugged it off.

Crabbe and Goyle joined them, grunting happily through mouthfuls of cake. The only other first-year boy at the Parkinsons was a blond Hufflepuff named Zacharias Smith.

Harry got stared at a lot and asked questions about "his Muggles" and the Dark Lord in the same breath. Happily, it turned out that Zacharias was an enthusiastic Quidditch player. The five boys spent the evening plotting ways of smuggling brooms into Hogwarts and getting onto the house team, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

There was no formal dinner that night, which was a relief. The boys nibbled together in a relaxed way until it was time to leave.

.

"Zacharias Smith is descended from Helga Hufflepuff," Draco told Harry that night, turning up his nose.

"Helga Hufflepuff?" repeated Harry.

"Don't let Father hear you've never heard of Helga Hufflepuff!"

"Why?"

"Listen, Potter, Helga Hufflepuff was the worst among the founders of the school. She was like Professor Sprout. Or maybe the worst was Godric Gryffindor. He was like Weasley, he even had red hair. Then there was Rowena Ravenclaw, she was rather like Madam Pince, you know, the librarian, and the best was Salazar Slytherin."

"Was he like Professor Snape?"

"A bit, but he was mostly like me. The Malfoys have Slytherin blood," he added, holding out his palm as if Harry could identify the blood running in his veins.

"It doesn't look very different on the outside," commented Harry.

"You are a nitwit, Potter," was Draco's reply.

Harry's remark, that 'nitwit' was a word Dumbledore liked, was the signal for a pillow fight, after which Dobby had to repair both pillows.

ooo

Next morning was Christmas. Harry woke up to find a pile of packages at the foot of his bed. It was the first time in his life he had Christmas presents. He was excitedly tearing wrappings off when Draco bounced in and threw his self-reparable pillow at him.

"Look," said Harry. 'I've got presents!"

"That one's mine. That's from my parents. Whose is that? 'To Harry, from Hagrid.' _Hagrid_ sent you a present?"

It was a wooden flute.

"Bet he made it himself," sneered Draco.

"But it's really nice!"

Harry blew it. It sounded like an owl.

"What beautiful music! Better than the Weird Sisters!"

"Shut up, Draco!" said Harry, who had no idea who the Weird Sisters were.

Draco had bought Harry expensive games of exploding snap, Gobstones and wizarding chess.

"Like that you'll be a real wizard."

"I _am_ a real wizard."

"Oh, really?"

Harry pulled a face and proceded to open Mr Malfoy's present. He was surprised Draco's father had taken the time to get him a present. He just hoped it wasn't something he had bought in Knockturn Alley.

It was a large book called 'Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy'. Not knowing what to make of it, Harry flipped through the pages. Wizarding families were listed in alphabetical order. Draco watched over Harry's shoulder as he looked up the Potters. It was strange finding out abuot his family from a book. Harry had to put the book down. His hands trembled too much.

"You're descended from both Slytherin and Gryffindor," remarked Draco, frowning. "That explains a lot."

"A lot what?" snapped Harry, sorry he had opened the book in front of Draco.

"That's why you're so annoying."

"Look who's talking!" grumbled Harry, slamming the book shut.

"Hey, mind my father's present!"

"Your father's telling me I'm okay because I'm descended from Slytherin, is that it?"

"What's wrong with that? I'm descended from him too. We're related."

"Wonderful."

"More than you think. Open Mother's present."

Mrs Malfoy had bought Harry expensive gloves and shoes. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had sent him a five-pence piece.

"That's money?" giggled Draco.

"You can laugh!" Harry threw the coin into his trunk.

"What can you buy with it?"

"Nothing much."

ooo

Breakfast was extra festive that morning, which meant even more unknown dishes in silver platters. Draco's parents had dressed up and looked like a king and queen.

Mrs Malfoy hugged Draco, who didn't look too embarrassed. Harry could understand that. He too would have been proud to have such a beautiful mother. He had no idea what his mother had looked like, and 'Nature's Nobility' had not even mentioned her.

Harry thanked Mr and Mrs Malfoy sincerely. They had done a lot more for him at Christmas than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had.

"You must read the book," said Mr Malfoy gravely.

"I... I looked up my family."

"Good. You have potential, young man."

Harrry did seem to have potential: he successfully copied Draco and kept a straight face at the table and the Malfoys didn't criticise him once. As they left the table, Draco gave him the thumbs up.

They finally flew in the park before lunch. The Comet Two Sixty was much easier to steer than the school brooms. Mr Malfoy nodded appreciatively as he watched them.

In the evening there was another party, and the next day another one. In the end, Harry lost count. It seemed the Malfoys visited every rich and important wizard in Britain. Pansy was always there, each time wearing a frilly robe of a different colour.

One night, the party was held at Malfoy Manor. Harry was surprised to see Theodore Nott with his father, an elderly stern-looking gentleman. Theodore grabbed a glass of butterbeer and retired to a corner with a book he had brought with him.

The best part of the evening was when Harry caught sight of Professor Snape, sipping wine and surveying the crowd. He looked slightly more relaxed than he did at school, if such a word as 'relaxed' could be applied to Professor Snape, but something about him didn't quite fit the surroundings.

"Professor!"

"Potter," said Snape, and Harry knew what didn't fit: Professor Snape hadn't dressed up for the party. He was wearing his usual black robes, as if he had just walked out of his classroom, as if he had no other identity than that of Potions Master. In a way, it was reassuring.

"I heard you were wandering around Knockturn Alley," he said, his eyes boring into Harry's. The flicker was not there today.

"Oh yes, Zabini took me there."

"Zabini?"

"I met him in Diagon Alley when I was Christmas shopping."

"Alone?"

"Well, the Malfoys had all gone to do their own shopping. Draco wanted to buy me things."

A half-smile a little like Mrs Malfoy's tugged at Snape's lips for a second, the he asked in a serious tone,

"Was Zabini alone?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, thinking of what Draco had told him about Zabini's stepfather.

"What did you do in Knockturn Alley?"

"Nothing, just walked around. Then we met Mr Malfoy."

"Knockturn Alley is an interesting place," said Snape, watching Harry closely.

"That's what Zabini said."

"What do you say?"

"It's..."

Harry hesitated. He wanted to say, "it's frightening", but didn't want to sound like a coward. Snape was still watching him.

"It's the other side," said Snape, as Harry gave up all attempt at finishing his sentence. "Everything has another side. Diagon Alley is not all in magical world."

"It's nicer, though."

"Slytherins go beyond niceness."

"So it was okay to be there?"

"Next time, I advise you to go with an adult."

"Zabini seemed to know his way around."

"But you are new to our world. And you are..." he sneered, "a little too famous, too visible."

Harry nodded. Knockturn Alley did seem like the sort of place that would attract Voldemort's followers. And wasn't Mr Malfoy...?

"Uncle Severus!"

Draco looked as happy as Harry had felt, to see Professor Snape.

"Are you having a good time, boys?" asked Snape, his eyes lingering on Harry.

"Oh, yes."

"Good."

Snape put his glass down, got up and shook his robes.

"Enjoy yourselves."

His voice was so grave as he pronounced these words it almost made Harry laugh.

Snape disappeared in swish of robes.

"Where did he go?" moaned Draco. "He's the only person who isn't boring, around here."

"Thank you," said Harry. "I didn't know Professor Snape was your uncle."

"He isn't really," admitted Draco, a bit wistfully. "He's not... anyway, the Abbot girl's here. Let's go and put something in her butterbeer."

ooo

The holidays finally came to an end, with the parties, the flying session in the park when the weather allowed it, and Harry' initation to wizard games when Mrs Malfoy decided it was too cold to go out. Draco loved winning and cheated constantly, but got sulky when Harry tried to cheat, or simply when he won. Harry was used to such behaviour from Dudley. What was different was that, unlike the Dursleys, Mr and Mrs Malfoy did not come and support their son. Harry was free to stand up to Draco and quarrell until one of Draco's parents sent them to separate rooms and told them to do their homework.

They may have been supporters of his parents' murderer, Harry reflected, but they still treated him better than his relatives had. He found himself ruminating Snape's words, "Everything has another side." "Slytherins go beyond niceness." They seemed to go with Zabini's "you ask the wrong questions".

Perhaps there were no right questions.


	8. Chapter 8

Green and Silver

These are JK Rowling's world and characters, with just one change.

ooo

8.

Cloak and Curse

A few days after the beginning of term, Professor Snape called Harry.

"Come with me, Potter."

Puzzled, Harry obeyed. He couldn't think what he had done wrong. He ate a decent amount of food at meals. Did this have to do with his poor performance in Potions? Or had the Malfoys complained about him?

They stopped in front of an ugly stone gargoyle.

"Sherbet lemon," said Snape.

Before Harry had time to wonder, the gargoyle sprang aside and the wall behind it split in two, revealing a spiral staircase that was moving upwards like an escalator.

"Come."

Harry and Snape rose upwards until they reached an oak door with a knocker in the shape of a griffon.

Snape knocked. The door opened. They walked in to find Professor Dumbledore sitting behind a desk covered in strange silver instruments.

"Aah, Harry!" he beamed. "Thank you, Severus. So, Harry, how was Christmas?"

"Er, thank you, sir. I was at Draco Malfoy's."

"So I heard. Was it enjoyable?"

"Er, well, it was... better than at the Dursleys. But I wonder... Professor Snape told me the Malfoys have been followers of the Dark Lord..."

Dumbledore frowned.

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Headmaster!" exclaimed Snape. "Potter is a first-year student!"

"Aah, Severus, but this is Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter is no different than any other first year student."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Even _you _know that isn't true, Severus."

"Potter cannot walk into Malfoy Manor saying the Dark Lord's name." Snape looked annoyed.

"I don't see why not."

"Headmaster, you see very well."

"Let's not argue in front of Harry, Severus." Dumbledore waved his hand in the air, as if to whisk the argument away. Unless it was meant to whisk Snape away. But Snape didn't budge.

"Indeed, Harry, the Malfoys were among Lord Voldemort's followers."

Harry stayed silent.

"You must be careful around them, Harry. However your friendship with Draco may be a good thing."

He twinkled again.

"Anyway, I have a belated Christmas present for you."

A present from DUMBLEDORE?

"Er, thank you, sir."

Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small package. Slowly, Harry unwrapped it. It contained a silvery grey cloth.

"This is an Invisibility Cloak, Harry. It belonged to your father. He left it in my possession before he died."

Harry looked at the Cloak in awe.

"I would prefer you not to mention this to the Malfoys, including Draco."

"No, sir."

"Try it on."

Harry pulled the Cloak around his shoulders and looked down. His body had disappeared.

"Use it well," said Dumbledore.

"Thank you, sir."

Snape looked very disapproving.

They walked out in silence, Harry's head bursting with questions he didn't dare ask.

"Potter," said Snape, as they reached the dungeon door.

Harry jumped.

"No wandering around at night. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

If he couldn't use the cloak at night or show it to Draco, what was he supposed to do with it?

"If you use this Cloak to wander around forbidden places at forbidden times, I shall confiscate it. There are reasons why certain places are out of bounds, in case you believed Professor Dumbledore was joking when he spoke of dangers at the beginning of the school year. I will not allow my students to endanger themselves."

"I won't, sir."

"For the same reason, I will ask you not to use the Dark Lord's name, even though Professor Dumbledore... gave you permission to do so. It is much preferable that you use the common expression 'You Know Who'. Professor Dumbledore prefers it to 'the Dark Lord'." Snape curled his lip. "Question of taste," he added. "Put the Cloak away discreetly. I don't need the whole of Slytherin house using it."

Harry did as he was told. Snape sounded both anxious and hostile towards the Cloak, and indeed the whole meeting with Dumbledore. It seemed his Head of house and the Headmaster didn't see things eye-to-eye. There also seemed to be some kind of danger lurking around, from which Snape was eager to protect his students. Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed more concerned about the Malfoys than anything else.

Harry couldn't make much sense of all this. For the moment, he would just keep the Cloak in his trunk and look at it when no one was around, wondering what his father used it for.

ooo

"Where have you been, Scarhead?" called Draco, as Harry returned to the common-room.

"Why do I have to tell you everywhere I go?"

"To Hagrid again, I bet. Did you thank him for his wonderful present?"

"Leave Hagrid alone."

"A' right. I've got something to show you. We just need to find an idiot."

"There are plenty around here."

"Slytherin idiots don't count," said Draco with a contemptuous glance towards Crabbe and Goyle. "I want a Gryff or a Puff."

"What for?"

"You'll see."

Apprehensive yet curious, Harry followed Draco. As usual, Crabbe and Goyle trailed along. They stopped in front of the library.

"I bet the Mudblood's in there."

Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual silly snigger.

"What do you want to do?"

"Show you a really good curse I've learned."

"What does it...?"

"Shshsh!"

Neville was coming out of the library.

"Longbottom! The perfect idiot."

"Who-... who are you calling an idiot?" stammered Neville.

"Trying to pretend you're a Gryffindor, Longbottom? Never! The Hat's going senile, that's what."

"I _am _ a Gryffindor!"

"Prove it."

Draco pointed his wand at Neville, whose legs snapped together, making him look like a tin soldier.

Trying to get them loose, Neville wiggled the top part of his body, but all that did was to make him topple over. He whimpered.

"You're no Gryffindor, you're just a crybaby!" sneered Draco. "See, Harry, you can do that to any of your enemies."

Harry doubted it would be enough to stop Lord Voldemort.

"Hey, where are you going? Aren't you going to unstick his legs?"

"Why? It's more fun like that. watch him hop up to the den."

"Okay, I've seen, now undo it."

"You _are_ a kill-joy!"

"I just don't think it's funny. It's the kind of thing my Muggle cousin does."

"Muggles can't do curses."

"No, but they can be bullies."

"Idiots deserve to be bullied. Look at him. He's pureblood and everything, but he can't even help himself. Father says, 'Throw them in the water, they'll have to swim, fly or die.'"

It did seem like the sort of thing Lucius Malfoy would say.

"Did he do that to you?"

Draco's smirk disappeared. Instead, he narrowed his eyes in a mean way.

"Look at him," he hissed.

"Listen, my cousin did things like that to me, not curses, but nasty stuff, and..."

"You can't be a victim all your life, Boy Who Lived. Victims are weak. Like Longbottom."

Neville had hopped out of sight.

"Didn't he look just like his toad? I should have turned him green."

"Who taught you that?"

"Derrick."

"Did he do it to you?"

"Of course not."

Derrick was one of the Slytherin Beaters. Harry made a mental note to ask him for the curse, as well as the countercurse. It could come in useful if ever Draco changed his mind and decided Slytherin idiots did count.

"You don't think it's funny?" pouted Draco.

"Not my idea of fun."

"You talk like Theo."

So this was the reason Theo Nott kept away from Draco. Harry made another mental note. It might be worth getting to know Theo better, even if he was a boring bookworm who didn't have any idea of fun whatsoever.

ooo

**AN : **This chapter is relatively short, because I am going away for two weeks and I wanted to give you _something_ in the meantime. Replies to reviews and more when I get back.


	9. Chapter 9

Green and Silver

These are JK Rowling's world and characters, with just one change.

ooo

9.

Through the Trapdoor

The match against Hufflepuff was so easily won Slytherin hardly celebrated. Professor Sprout was not upset. She shook hands with Snape cheerfully and even congratulated him.

"We didn't even have to cheat," said Draco. "And God knows it's easy to cheat with Hufflepuffs. They're so honest."

"What's wrong with honest?"

Harry had addressed the question to Theo, in an attempt to draw him into the victory non-celebration.

Draco snorted.

Theo looked up from his book.

"Only stupid people are honest", he said, as if this were obvious.

"Why?" risked Harry.

"You are very naive, Potter." Theo marked his place in his book. "Did it ever help you to be honest with the Muggles?"

Harry thought about it.

"No. But nothing helped with them."

"Rules are made to be broken," continued Theo in his bored voice.

"Why?" insisted Harry.

"Rules are for Hufflepuffs, everyone knows that. Slytherins make their own rules."

"Even in Quidditch?"

"Specially in Quidditch!" said Draco. "If you can win according to the rules, it's good. If you can't, cheating is part of the game."

"And you know all about cheating," sighed Harry.

Theo had gone back to his book.

"When Smith's on the team, things will get more interesting," continued Draco. "He's not your regular Puff. But then," he smirked, "we'll be on the Slytherin team."

.

Harry was not put off by Theo's unconventional approach to honesty. He was intrigued. He continued sitting next to Theo whenever he could, and asking for his opinion on various subjects, which thoroughly annoyed Draco.

Theo was the first person to mention the end-of-year exams. He went so far as to make a personal remark to Draco about his father expecting good results. Draco scowled, but the three of them began to spend more time in the library. They weren't the only ones. Apart from the usual crowd of studious Ravenclaws and hard-working Hufflepuffs, Tracey Davis was always there, biting her nails raw, as well as Hermione, who was coaching Neville.

Draco and Harry spent the Easter holidays at Malfoy Manor. Harry had learned to behave inconspicuously around Draco's parents. The boys had some happy time flying, but Madam Malfoy (Harry had learned this was the proper way to address her) was still not always satisfied with the weather, and Mr Malfoy kept reminding them the exams were getting close.

To add to this, the teachers had given them more homework than ever. Draco sat with Harry behind piles of books and parchments muttering against Mudbloods and teachers' pets.

Harry was glad when the third term began and brought them back to the library.

He was looking up 'Dittany' in 'One Thousand Magic Herbs and Fungi' one day, when Draco nudged him.

"Here's your pal."

Harry looked up.

"Hagrid!"

"What are you hiding behind your back?" asked Draco.

Even Theo looked up.

Hagrid retreated under Madam Pince's glare.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Draco.

Harry couldn't bring himself to get back to Dittany. Happily, he didn't have to wait long.

"Dragons," whispered Draco, as he sat back down.

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me the first time I ever met him."

"Do you think he's got one?"

"How would I know?"

"Dragon-breeding is illegal," said Draco with his usual smirk.

"You mean there are dragons in Britain?"

"Of course there are."

.

When Harry set off to visit Hagrid an hour later, Draco insisted on accompanying him. Harry had half a mind to go back, but he was too curious.

As they approached the hut, they noticed all the curtains were drawn.

"There's a dragon in there," whispered Draco.

Harry knocked.

"Who is it?" asked Hagrid, in a shifty voice.

"It's me, Harry..."

"Oh, er..."

Hagrid opened the door, caught sight of Draco and shut it again, leaving only enough space to poke his head out.

"Sorry, I can't entertain now."

"Why?" said Draco.

"I'm busy, that's why."

Hagrid closed the door.

"He's going to get into such trouble!" rejoiced Draco. "That is, if the dragon doesn't burn down his hut first."

"Are you going to report him?"

"Not until I have proof."

"How are you going to get proof?"

"You'll get it for me."

"Will not."

.

The only thing Harry could do was to stop visiting Hagrid. To Harry's surprise, Hagrid didn't seem to notice. He didn't invite Harry or come to talk to him in the dining hall, as he used to. In fact, he was hardly ever to be seen.

.

A week before the exams, Draco had become so moody and snappy Harry couldn't take it any more. He walked out of the library. Draco grunted something at him, but Harry didn't bother to listen.

It was a wonderful feeling to be alone in the corridor. Almost too good to be true. Harry kept turning around to make sure he wasn't being followed.

He wasn't. Now was the time to get the Invisibility Cloak. Professor Snape had told him not to use it to wander in forbidden places at forbidden times, but going to Hagrid wasn't forbidden.

"Use it well," Dumbledore had said.

His thoughts were interrupted by a whimper coming from one of the classrooms ahead. It sounded like Quirrell.

"No-no-not again, please-"

Before Harry had reached the classroom. Quirrell had rushed out of it, pale and upset, straightening his turban. He brushed past Harry without noticing him and disappeared.

Harry peered into the classroom. It was empty. A door stood ajar on the other side, but it led to an equally empty classroom.

Could someone be there under an Invisibility Cloak? Harry wondered. But it seemed useless to investigate. Besides, Harry wanted to see Hagrid.

When Harry pulled on the Invisibility Cloak in the dungeon corridor, he was overwhelmed by the freedom and power he felt. He could go anywhere and do anything and no one would know. Why hadn't he thought of it before? There were a few drawbacks. He had to dodge Filch and a group of older students in the Entrance Hall, and, outside in the sun, it was quite hot under the Cloak. But it was well worth it.

He pulled off the Cloak in front of Hagrid's door and knocked. To his surprise, Hagrid was not at all his usual cheerful self.

"Hagrid, what happened?"

"Where've you bin? I haven't seen yeh fer ages!"

"Last time I came, you said you couldn't entertain."

"Yeah, well, now I can. Yeh didn' bring Malfoy this time?"

"No, he's studying."

"What did yeh bring him for las' time?"

"He wanted to come."

Hagrid shook his head.

"Meddlin', that is."

"Meddling in what?"

Hagrid sighed.

"It's over, now. I had a baby dragon. Pity yeh didn' see him. A beauty! Dumbledore said I couldn't keep him."

"That's a shame," said Harry.

"What've yeh bin up to? Busy with the exams?"

"Yes. I needed a break, though.

"Yeh needn' worry. First year exams aren't that bad. Even I passed everything."

This was the most encouraging statement Harry had heard for a long time.

ooo

The exams started in sweltering heat, keeping Harry and his classmates busy and exhausted for a week. For some reason, Harry's scar kept hurting him. He assumed it was because of the heat and the pressure.

When the last exam, History of Magic, finally came to an end, the Slytherins sat together in shady spot near the lake to relax. Draco was making fun of Goyle, who, he claimed, must have failed everything.

"You'll end up as game-keeper," said Draco in a loud voice, as Hagrid approached.

"Nothin' wrong with an honest job," said Hagrid. "Harry, I've got yeh a present."

"Another musical instrument?" sneered Draco.

Pansy gave a high-pitched giggle.

"Shut up," said Harry. He got up to follow Hagrid.

"Don't forget to show it to me!" Draco called after him.

"Only if you stop making fun of Hagrid."

"Too bad, then. Keep your instruments."

"How can yeh be friends with him?" grumbled Hagrid.

"I'm working on him," muttered Harry.

"Anyway, thought yeh'd like this."

Hagrid held out a leather-covered book. Harry opened it. Photographs of wizard and witches smiled and waved at him.

"Yeh haven't got any pictures of your parents, have yeh? I asked yer parents' old school friends."

Harry's father looked almost exactly like him. His mother was no Madam Malfoy, but she was quite pretty and her smile was friendlier and happier.

Harry accompanied Hagrid to his hut, where they could look at the pictures without Draco butting in. Harry stayed there until dinner time, watching Hagrid point out people he had never heard of, such as Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and Mary Macdonald.

ooo

"What was it?" asked Draco at dinner.

"Pictures of my parents."

"Can I see?"

"Later, perhaps."

Surprisingly, Draco didn't insist.

"Hagrid is a good man, you know."

Draco shrugged, but he didn't have time to say anything. Professor Snape was calling Harry. He seemed in a bad mood.

"Potter, come to my office."

Once more, Harry wondered what he had done wrong. At least, he hadn't cheated in the exams. Did this have anything to do with the Cloak?

"Sit."

Harry obeyed.

"Have you heard of the Philosopher's Stone?"

"The what?"

Snape gave an impatient snort.

"I thought not. The Philosopher's Stone tranforms any metal into pure gold. It also produces the elixir of life, which makes the drinker immortal."

"Wow," said Harry.

"We have a Philosopher's Stone hidden at Hogwarts," said Snape with distaste.

"What? I mean, excuse me, sir?"

"Don't make me repeat myself. This Stone is in danger of being stolen."

Snape looked at Harry, who felt very confused.

"This fact does not seem to disturb you."

"Well, I... it... I didn't know. Why are you telling me this?"

Snape's features relaxed a little.

"Orders of the Headmaster."

"But why me?"

"Never ask 'why me', boy."

"I don't understand. Can I tell Draco about it? Or Nott?"

"Nott ?" repeated Snape. "No, that would be of no use." He curled his lip. "The Headmaster wants your help to stop the thief."

_"My _help? But I'm only a first-year!"

"You are also the Boy Who Lived."

Harry's face fell. Snape, on the other hand, seemed slightly less unhappy.

"As you know, I am strongly opposed to students putting themselves in danger. Follow me and so as I say. Professor Dumbledore and I will be close at hand, ready to help you."

They left the dungeons, walked up to the third floor and reached the forbidden corridor. Harry took a step back. Now he knew why it was forbidden: it was occupied by a huge three-headed dog, with three quivering noses, three growling mouths and six glowering eyes.

Snape pulled a harmonica out of his pocket and brought it to his mouth. A vaguely nostalgic tune, if it could be called a tune, filled the corridor. The dog's six eyes lost their fierceness, then their focus, and drooped. The growls turned into snores and the beast collapsed, fast asleep.

Harry gaped.

Snape knelt next to the sleeping dog and pulled it gently aside, revealing a trapdoor which he pulled open.

"Come quick," he whispered.

Harry's stomach lurched, but he obeyed.

"Jump."

"Wh-what?"

It was so dark down there they couldn't see the bottom.

The dog twitched and gave a soft growl.

Snape must have pushed him, because Harry found himself falling down, down and down, until he finally landed on something soft

He sat there for a few seconds, groping in the dark. High above, the dog barked and Snape landed next to him.

"Lumos."

Light emerged from Snape's wand.

"What plant is this?"

Harry looked down and saw, to his horror, tht he plant was twisting itself round his legs.

"What is this plant?" repeated Snape.

"I don't know," groaned Harry. The plant was moving up his body.

Snape tut-tutted.

"Listening to Professor Sprout can save your life, Potter. This is Devil's Snare. How does one get rid of it?"

Harry shook his head, more ashamed than scared.

"Incendio."

A small fire broke out next to the wall. The plant recoiled and untangled itself.

Snape looked at Harry.

"Er, thanks, sir."

"You need to pay attention in class, Potter. I may not always be around to save your neck."

What now? They could not get back the way they had come, and anyway, Harry didn't want to face the dog again. The only exit was a stone passageway that reminded Harry of Gringotts.

Gringotts... that small package Hagrid had taken out... could it be...?

"Yes, this way," said Snape.

They followed the passage, which led them to a brilliantly lit chamber, full of small birds fluttering in front of a heavy door. Snape stopped.

Again, there was no other exit.

"We need to get through to that door," said Harry. "Shall we run?"

"Disappointing, Potter."

Harry couldn't help smiling. Obviously Professor Snape knew all the answers. This was some kind of test.

"Can't we run?"

"You can run."

Harry wondered about the "you", then remembered Professor Snape was "strongly opposed to students putting themselves in danger".

He ran. The birds didn't attack him, but the door was locked and no amount of tugging and heaving helped.

Harry loooked around, then grinned.

"Keys!"

Snape nodded.

"And broomsticks! I just have to catch one... I bet I have to get the right one, though."

Snape said nothing. Harry looked carefully, and saw a large silver key that had a bent wing.

"That one."

Snape nodded again.

Harry climbed onto the best broomstick. As soon as he was in the air, worries about what would happen next vanished. Professor Snape was there. He was all right.


	10. Chapter 10

Green and Silver

These are JK Rowling's world and characters.

The idea of taking the place of the king in the chess game came from 'When in Doubt, Obliviate', by Sarah1281.

ooo

10.

The Man with Two Faces

"Stop showing off, there's more to come," sniffed Professor Snape, as Harry waved the key in the air triumphantly. It struggled in his hand, like a Snitch, and flew away as soon as it had opened the next door.

"Come on, Potter. The faster this is over, the more sleep we'll get tonight."

In the next chamber, Harry found his way blocked by two rows of black larger-than-life statues. At the other end of the room, two rows of white statues stood in front of the exit.

"It's a chessboard, a giant chessboard...Now what do we do?"

"What does one do with a chessboard, Potter?"

"Play? But I'm rubbish at chess! Everybody always beats me."

Snape shook his head. It was hard to tell whether he was more annoyed with Harry or with the chessboard.

"Take the place of the king."

At these words, the black king left the board. Harry went to stand on the empty square.

"Don't think this is a reflection of your statute."

Harry shook his head. He didn't feel like a king at all.

"Why did I choose the king?"

Harry frowned. Draco had taught him the game, but it was not his favourite. There were too many rules and intricacies.

"The purpose of the game is to checkmate the king. But he's the weakest. I'm like him."

"On the other hand," said Snape slowly, "this is the only piece that cannot be taken."

Harry looked at the statues. If this was like wizard chess, being taken would be dangerous indeed.

Snape took the place of one of the black knights.

"Watch carefully."

A white pawn moved forward.

Snape directed the black pieces in the low voice he used in class. The pieces moved silently. It was eerie, and no fun at all to be a king. It seemed all the other pieces could dart around in all directions and Harry could hardly move.

Harry jumped when the other black knight got smashed to the ground.

"Stay in place," snapped Professor Snape, while the knight was being dragged off the board.

More pieces were taken. Hary found himself tensing with dread, the same way he did when Dudley was in a rampageous mood. There was a little comfort in knowing he could not be taken, but what if Professor Snape got knocked down?

The white side was aggressive. Snape, on the other hand, moved quietly and insidiously. His subtle game was hard to follow.

"Checkmate," said Snape softly, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Harry blinked.

The white king threw his crown at Snape's feet. The chessmen bowed and parted. Snape bowed back and walked over to the door.

The smell in the next room was awful, worse than anything Harry has smelled in his life, including Quirrell's turban and Aunt Petunia's attempt to dye his uniform for Stonewall High. He pulled his robe over his nose.

Then he stared. What he saw through watery eyes was a huge grey creature that only vaguely looked human. It had been knocked out, by the sight of the bloody lump on its head.

"What's that?"

"This is a troll," said Snape, stepping over one of its legs.

"Like... like the one you fought on Hallowe'en?"

"Humph," said Snape.

Then Harry realised.

"Three heads! It wasn't a troll that attacked you, it was the dog! But why? But how? Wasn't the troll in the dungeons?"

"Let's get away from this foul thing," said Snape.

Harry followed Snape into the next room. As soon as they were inside, a purple fire sprang up behind them, preventing them from going back, while a black fire appeared in front of the next door.

Harry looked at Snape. His face was expressionless. Hary took a deep breath and turned towards the other thing in the room: a table on which seven differently shaped bottles had been placed in a row. Next to them was a roll of paper. Harry picked it up and read it slowly. His eyes widened.

"What does that mean?"

"I was under the impression your relatives had taught you English."

"Yes, but..."

With a sigh, Harry reread the riddle. And reread it. Snape was not going to help.

"One moves ahead. One gets you back. Two contain wine. Three are poison. Nettle wine on the left of the poison..."

After a few minutes, he looked up.

"The small one leads forward and this one backward?"

"How can you find out?"

"By... drinking them?"

"Which one do you intend to try?"

It was no use going backward. Harry indicated the small bottle.

"Go ahead."

Harry looked at it dubiously.

"There isn't enough for both of us."

"Don't worry about me," said Snape.

"You mean I must go forward alone?"

"That is what I mean."

"But..."

Then Harry remembered Snape was "strongly against students putting themselves in danger".

"What am I supposed to do in there?"

"Pretend you came alone, out of sheer foolishness," said Snape, his lip curling. "The thief must not know I am here."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to. Just do as you are told."

Snape's voice had an impatient edge again. Harry gulped down the contents of the bottle. It felt as if his body had filled up with ice.

"Go," said Snape.

This was like the Floo, Harry told himself, except that the flames were a different colour. He braced himself and walked in. It wasn't exactly like the Floo. He could not feel the flames at all and there was no mad spinning. He just walked through.

Quirrell was on the other side, standing in front of a high mirror.

Was Quirrell the thief?

Quirrell smiled.

"I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

Why? thought Harry. But he suspected it was the wrong question, so he kept quiet.

Quirrell snapped his fingers and something - at first, Harry thought it was Devil's Snare, but it was just an ordinary rope - wrapped itself tightly around him. He was caught. He couldn't move.

_Pretend you came alone._ Why would a first year student want to come here alone?

"Wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

Harry was quiet, but he didn't exactly wait. He struggled against the ropes as discreetly as he could, even though he had no idea what he would do if he manged to break free.

"Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this," Quirrel was muttering. "But he's in London."

In London? Hadn't Snape said Dumbledore would be nearby to help him?

At least, Snape was there.

Quirrell was getting nervous.

"I see the Stone... I am presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Harry could see no Stone and no master, only Quirrell looking at his reflection from different angles.

Quirrell was beginning to panic.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, master!"

A high, cold voice answered. A voice that seemed to come from Quirrell, but that wasn't his.

"Use the boy..."

"Potter," said Quirrell's voice. "Come here."

The ropes fell away.

"Look into the mirror and tell me what you see."

Bewildered, Harry walked towards the mirror. He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking. The suddenly Professor Snape appeared next to him. Harry turned, but he was alone in the room with Quirrell. How strange. He was standing next to Quirrell, and he knew this was no illusion, as he could smell Quirrell's turban. But his reflection was standing next to Professor Snape.

"What do you see?"

So Quirrell could not see Snape.

"I see myself," said Harry.

"Get out of the way," said Quirrell.

Harry moved aside and mirror Snape disappeared. It felt lonely.

The strange voice spoke again. It came from Quirrell, but Quirrell's lips weren't moving.

"He lies... Let me speak to him... face to face..."

Suddenly Harry knew. He had heard that voice before, a long time ago.

Voldemort.

Quirrell was unwrapping his turban. How...?

A second later, Harry had no more questions. Quirrell had turned around. Where the back of his head should have been there was a face. A snake-like face with eyes as red lights and no nose.

"Harry Potter," whispered the creature. "See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour... I have form only when I can share another's body... once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... I need the Stone. What did you see in the mirror?"

Harry had seen Professor Snape, but Professor Snape was not there. Or maybe he was wearing an Invisibility Cloak. That was it. The mirror allowed one to see under Invisibility Cloaks.

Harry noticed he was breathing heavily. It was as if he had been out of his body, but the thought of Snape under an Invisibility Cloak had brought him back.

"You saw Snape, didn't you?" said the voice.

How did he know?

"You are a young Slytherin, Harry Potter, one of my own house. Don't you want eternal life and as much money as you can have? Your father's bank account won't last for ever. Don't you want the Philospher's Stone?"

Hope left Harry again. Voldemort was not disturbed by the thought of Snape. This was hardly surprising: what could Snape do against Voldemort?

Where was Dumbledore? Instinctively, Harry turned to the mirror.

His heart leapt: Dumbledore's reflection had appeared next to Snape's.

"Don't be a fool. Your teachers cannot help you. Save your own life and join me," hissed Voldemort.

He wasn't even afraid of Dumbledore.

"Join me or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging for mercy."

It must have been the mention of his parents that did it.

"Liar!" yelled Harry.

"How touching... I always valued bravery... Your parents were brave... I killed your father first...but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you..."

This man... creature... was mad. Nothing would stop him.

"I need the Stone, boy."

"I don't have it. I don't know where it is."

Harry wished he didn't know it existed.

"Look. Look in the mirror."

But there was no Stone in the mirror. Only Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore.

"You want the Stone, boy!"

This time, it was Quirrell's voice. Quirrell grasped Harry's wrist. Pain surged through Harry's scar. Excruciating, overpowering, incapacitating pain. Harry felt as if his head was going to explode.

Then it stopped, or rather, it seemed to ebb. Quirrell was screaming. Harry opened his eyes and saw Quirrell's fingers covered in blisters.

"Seize him!" yelled Voldemort.

Quirrell tried again, the pain came back and again Quirrell had to let him go.

"Then kill him!"

Quirrell raised his wand. Harry grabbed Quirrell's face. It was like a nightmare: the pain, Voldemort's roars and Quirrell's screams.

"Kill him!"

Harry wasn't sure what happened next because, when he woke up, he was lying in a strange bed. Snape and Dumbledore sat next to him. Dumbledore was smiling. Snape was not.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore.

Snape said nothing.

"Volde- the Dark- You-Know-Who!" spluttered Harry.

"Calm yourself, dear boy. Quirrell is dead. Voldemort is now looking for another body to share."

This didn't seem like a good reason to calm down. Harry shuddered.

"What happened?"

"I arrived just in time to prevent Quirrell from killing you. For a moment, I even feared I had been too late."

"You nearly were," said Harry.

Snape's lips tightened.

"The Stone has been destroyed," said Dumbledore.

"Oh. Why couldn't it be destroyed before all this happened?"

Dumbledore seemed disconcerted.

"The Stone has ben keeping an old friend of mine and his wife alive for six hundred years."

"That means they're going to die?"

"Oh yes. To the well-organised mind, death is but the next adventure."

Harry stared.

"But... why did you need me?"

"You see, Harry, Professor Snape and I had our suspicions about Quirrell. Profesor Snape caught him trying to get past the three-headed dog at Hallowe'en..."

"The dog hurt Professor Snape's leg."

"Oh yes. So we knew Quirrell wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone. We could have simply stopped him, but we needed to know whether Voldemort was involved."

"I don't understand."

"The best way to force Voldemort to show himself was to bring him in your presence."

"So I was... bait?"

Professor Snape tightened his lips even more.

"I wouldn't use that ugly word, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You had the right to face Voldemort. I wanted to give you the chance."

Professor Dumbledore was making it sound as though he had given Harry a special treat. Bewildered. Harry turned to Professor Snape.

His Head of house was stony-faced. It was obvious that he didn't share the Headmaster's view. Harry felt better.

"You have risen to the challenge, Harry," Dumbledore was saying. "You have fought Lord Voldemort. You have fought a man's fight."

"I had no choice," said Harry. "He would have killed me. Why did he want to kill me?"

"Alas," said Dumbledore. "I cannot tell you this. Not now. When you are older, you will know."

"That is, if I get to be older."

"My dear boy, you have survived him once more and you have delayed his return. If he is delayed again and again, why, he may never return to power."

"How did I delay him? Why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother gave her life to save you."

Snape jerked, as if he too had a scar that was hurting him.

"Voldemort cannot understand love," continued Dumbledore gravely. "To have been loved so deeply will give you protection for ever."

There was a swish of black robes. Snape had left the room.

"It is in your skin. This is the reason Quirrell, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you."

The idea was new to Harry. He had grown up believing no one loved him, until Hagrid had appeared in his life.

Harry stared at the window and, as it sometimes happens when a feeling is just too strong, his mind got distracted.

"This is the hospital wing, isn't it?" he blurted out.

"Yes, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Do you have any more questions?"

"When can I leave? When can I go back to the others?"

Dumbledore looked a bit disappointed.

"I have asked Madam Pomfrey to let you go to the end-of-year feast."

"When is that?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Oh."

"Aren't you curious about the Mirror of Erised, Harry?" prodded Dumbledore.

Harry shrugged.

"Oh, is that what it's called? It shows people under Invisibility Cloaks."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"No, my dear boy. This is not what the Mirror does. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror. He would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry frowned. This gave him a headache, so he stopped.

"It shows us what we want?"

"Yes and no. It shows us nothing more than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. Your desire was to see me - I am most flattered - and Professor Snape. However, this mirror gives us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"It was real and possible. You and Professor Snape were there."

"In your case it was. But it isn't always."

"Was the Stone hidden in the Mirror?"

"I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my most brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. Only one who wanted to _find_ the Stone - not use it - could find it. Otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking the Elixir of Life. Neither Quirrell nor Voldemort qualified. As for you..."

"I didn't want to find the Stone."

"No. You wanted to be helped."

Dumbledore was unmistakably disappointed.

"Enough questions for now,"he said. "Just one recommendation: what happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell must stay a secret. I will ask you not to mention any of it to your classmates."

.

To Harry's disappointment, Professor Snape did not come back to see him in hospital.

Draco did.

"Professor Snape said you weren't feeling well. I hope you can come to the feast tomorrow."

"Madam Pomfrey says I can go."

"Oh, good. We won the Cup. You don't want to miss Weasley's face."

After a few minutes of entertaining Harry with imitations of Ron, Hermione and Neville, followed by a silent war dance, Draco added,

"What was wrong with you, anyway?"

"Exam nerves. Bad headache."

Draco looked at Harry's scar.

"Yes, it's sensitive," said Harry.

"What did Snape want last night?"

"He gave me an extra test."

"Whatever for?"

"For being the Boy Who Lived. Orders of Dumbledore."

"What was it about?"

"I'm not sure."

Draco sniggered.

"Father always says Dumbledore's barking. Did you pass?"

"No."

ooo

The Great Hall was decked in green and silver. Slytherin had won the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. At the staff table, Professor Snape had put on a smug face for the occasion. Next to him, Professor McGonagall wore a stiff false smile for the whole evening.

"Where's Quirrell?" said Pansy.

"The vampire got him," said Blaise Zabini, in a satisfied voice.

"No, it's the curse," said Daphne Greengrass. "There's a curse on the job. All Defence teachers disappear before the end of the year."

"That doesn't mean the vampire didn't get him."

"No, but..."

"He's no great loss. I wonder who we'll have next year," said Draco, unconcerned.

.

When the exam results came, Harry was surprised to see he had done even better than Draco. What upset Draco most was that Hermione had come out top of the year.

"Teachers' pet," he hissed. "Snape's the only one who sees through her. And old Hooch, of course - she can hardly stay on her broom. Stupid Mudblood. Snape says she learns all the books by heart. Any idiot can do that."

He went on and on rambling about stupid Mudbloods as he packed his trunk, and stopped only to smirk as Professor Snape handed out notes warning the students not to use magic during the holidays.

"No one can tell if you do, except if you're living with Muggles."

Harry's face fell.

"Like me."

"You can come and stay with us."

"Thank you, but my relatives are expecting me."

"Ah, the Muggles..."

Both boys pulled faces.

"Maybe they'll let me come and spend some time later," said Harry.

.

They joined the first years from the other houses and Hagrid led them to the fleet of boats that took them across the lake to the train station.

Ron glared at Draco, Draco glared at Hermione and Pansy made fun of Neville's toad, but apart from that, each house kept to itself. The students sat in separate compartments aboard the Hogwarts Express.

Soon they were changing into Muggle clothes again. Harry wondered what the Dursleys would say when they saw him wearing the clothes Madam Malfoy had bought for him. One thing made him feel good: aunt Petunia wouldn't be able to take them away and give then to Dudley, as they would never fit him.

Harry and Draco walked through the gate together and found themselves face-to-face with Mrs Weasley and her little girl.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!"

She was pointing at Harry.

"Be quiet, Ginny. It's rude to point."

"Hello," said Harry shyly.

Ginny beamed. Mrs Weasley looked sadly at Harry.

Draco was sneering.

"The little blood traitor likes you, but her family won't let her near a Slytherin."

"I don't get it," said Harry. "What's wrong with Slytherin?"

ooo

This is the end of Harry's first year as a Slytherin. I am taking a break now to put the second year on its feet. I'll post it as soon as it's ready.

I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for your interest and encouragement.

Swallow


End file.
